prose

Ethel

ashes

She’s in a nursing home and I’m waiting for her to die. Every few months I get a phone call from them that always starts the same way, “I’m calling about your mother but don’t worry, she’s fine.” Better luck next time, I always think. Usually they just need permission for something like a change …

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My Echo, My Shadow, and Me

I am a sixty-one-year-old white male of English and Irish descent. I have a genetic disposition for acne, baldness and depression. I am taller than average and slender. Clothing rarely fits me well. I was lied to as a child and things were done to me that should never be done to another human being. …

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