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Submitted to Contest #297
Reggie Feste takes his place, staring at the mole on his toe, turning his foot this way and that in his favorite Birkenstocks, his eyes boring into the growth like a surgeon’s knife. Reggie is obsessed with that mole, as he stands in the bleakest place on earth, a hospital ER at 11 pm on a Sunday night in northern California. Now he is at the front desk, facing the male nurse who sticks a thermometer in Reggie’s mouth, winds a blood pressure cuff around his arm and points casually at the familiar poster behind him. “What is your pain like:...
Submitted to Contest #296
Long Island, 1974 Think of a day so hot that your T-shirt sticks to your back like paste, a scorcher they say on the morning TV broadcasts. The air is shimmering with humidity, still and heavy, ripe with the sour smell of cabbages that Owen Kepler grows in his farm across the blacktop road. The pungent cabbage odor drifts across the street, into the screened and open windows of the small ranch home that Terry Dougherty shares with her parents. On the front steps, she finds the tomatoes that Kepler has left for them as usual. Terry treads ...
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