Funeral of Self-Will by Susan Gentry
Funeral of Self-Will A miasma of memories… nights in solitude Spiraling perdition… shadows intrude...
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Funeral of Self-Will A miasma of memories… nights in solitude Spiraling perdition… shadows intrude...
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Vacation David was the first. At least he was the first that I noticed. We were on vacation. The...
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A Good Day Oh, Lord; I’m out of coffee. I stand up to refill it, the blue clay cup in hand that...
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Like Father Like Son Walking home from work late Monday afternoon, I saw the man, my father, whom...
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The Cook The cool breeze that evening was quite a contrast to the warmth of the day. July was one...
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