Short Fiction
Jennifer Donohue

A Country of Eternal Light

But the sweater we buried you in is hanging in my closet, and there is dirt trapped in its stitches of yarn and maybe some grass clippings and maybe a stray flower petal or two from the bouquets. Can you believe the school sent one? And your neighbors? After all the shit they gave you. Us.

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Short Fiction
Jennifer Donohue

All This Darkness

Nobody ever says we have coal in our veins; they don’t have to. We have black half-moons under our nails when we wake in the morning; we ooze like oil when we skin a knee, split a knuckle fighting. We aren’t afraid of the dark or closed spaces.

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