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They called it a strawberry birthmark. Her mother told her it was there because she was sweet. But the small red mark under her breast didn't change the way she'd always felt. Ziva David didn't feel sweet. She wasn't sweet. She was sharp and bitter, like the horseradish on the seder plate, though her bitterness didn't stem from oppression. It came from feeling like she was missing something. That she lacked some important, feminine thing--perhaps it was sweetness--that other girls had.