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Weekly Contest #63
Marlow and Mommy were busy. Fall was in the air, Mommy said, and they had lots to do to get ready. They’d picked all the apples off their only tree. Daddy had to hold Marlow on his shoulders to reach the highest ones. Marlow stood on the stool in the kitchen and washed them. Then Mommy had peeled them and cut the core out with all the tiny, brown seeds. Then she even let him use the sharp knife to cut them. They had divided them up into bags and put them in the freezer. Now Marlow and Mommy were cutting leaves out of construction paper to ...
It’s a dry rasp. The sound of the safety scissors against the construction paper. They’re so dull, the yellow and orange paper so cheap, the scissors more or less tear the paper as opposed to snip. But it beats the rasp of the papery breathing from the woman in the bed beside mine in the first hospital. The first Guatemala hospital. My “leaves” look more like clouds because crisp edges are beyond someone’s skill. Mine or the scissors? And Mom – god bless her – trying to cheer me up, trying to keep my mind off the pain. Sweet, frustrating w...
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