I’m thirteen or fourteen and see a jar stuffed with tobacco leaves. “Ma, what’s capa doing in the refrigerator?”
“It’s good leaf, Franche. Leave it alone.”
“Going to make cigars at home?”
“No, no, need it to allow me to meet quota.”
“I never see Aunt Felicia put capa in her refrigerator.”
“That’s ’cause she’s fast. She doesn’t care what she puts out.”