The Niddah
My husband’s voice. I winced. Nick does not often address me when I am in the niddah. It is considered bad form, and he is a stickler for propriety.
Read MorePosted by Elana Gomel | Jan 12, 2021 | Short Fiction
My husband’s voice. I winced. Nick does not often address me when I am in the niddah. It is considered bad form, and he is a stickler for propriety.
Read MorePosted by Elana Gomel | Mar 5, 2019 | Short Fiction
Language always felt, to me, like an invasion. When it finally came, it filled my mouth like a handful of grinding stones. I often experience a physical pain producing words: some words more than others. It has little to do with their meaning and a lot with their shape.
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