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Weekly Contest #287
This story discusses death and dementia. Moments are vague, they can be anything. Like just now, when I tilted the kettle- too full and heavy for my single, mitt-laden wrist- and splashed boiling water on the inside of my thumb. The seconds it took for the red skin to begin to welt, for that very moment, was everything. That moment was not about whether I’d have a mark tomorrow, or about how I did the same thing last time and should have learned my lesson. That moment was only the heat searing into my skin, cooling as it dripped into my palm...
The best part of coming home for Halloween was always flying over the sparkling rivers and grand oaks of the forest that enclosed our little town. Breathing this air meant breathing the air of carefree days climbing trees, learning to fly, dipping poison apples with childhood friends. As I got closer to Hagsbury, though, my thoughts were replaced with worries for my mother. Well, maybe not as much “for” her, but “about” her. She was the primary topic of conversation on every phone call with my sister, who never ran out of complaints. The o...
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