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“Shark!” Tita cried, pointing. I ran from the water, but it was only a duck. Again.

Later, at the park, some kids were playing Frisbee near us. Suddenly, Tita pointed and yelled, “Duck!”

So I ducked. And was swallowed by a passing shark. Again.

Once we went out for drinks and she had the nerve to ask the bartender, “Why do you call it ‘pop’ and not ‘soda?’"

“Try it." He handed me a bottle.

I drank it, and my head exploded. “So that’s why,” Tita realized.

"Dangit, Tita," I said, gathering the remnants of my face off the barstool.

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