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Short Fiction

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
Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.
Strange. Surreal. Shocking. Beautiful.
Home » Short Fiction
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
The part where our jackets and gloves and hats and umbrellas and sweaters and boots and gray storage bins all written on neatly with Papa’s
The residents here are used to our visits now. Seeing us arrive doesn’t draw the stares it once did. I’d been surprised we were recognized
A group of robotniks sat in the lot. A fire burned in an open drum between them. They sat with their backs to stacks of
Maybe I don’t have your talent for helping others. Maybe I’m not selfless enough. Maybe it’s like my dear teacher Mrs. LeFay used to warn
When Kirsten was little, her mom told her that finwomen preyed on weak little girls.
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