Every morning when I wake up, I lean out my window to say hello to Mom. She doesn't reply, but that's okay. She never was a good listener, even before she was buried in our backyard.
I had just gotten out of the gas station and bought what I usually bought on my little Sunday night trips—a pack of reds, a water bottle (one of the purified waters. Spring water is quite gross to me
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"This is the last straw," Alma said. She had just opened the mail at the kitchen table.
Sitting opposite, Walter peered over the top of his newspaper. "What straw is that?"
"It's anothe
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