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The Sounds of Silence

A gale whistles through the sashes and rattles the bedroom door, an unwelcome visitor. I rouse from solitary sleep. Floorboards creak above. A door slams shut. I wrap myself in felted wool and rise, quivering, to join the other women of the witching hour searching our homes. “Not even a mouse,” I say, startling at…

Fish in the Water

In all those seventy-three sea and lakeside summers, those long idyllic sun-filled days with fat fluffs of white sailing high to cast now-and-again shade, or those humid, hazy days when the whine of mosquitoes filled her ears and no-seem-‘ems swarmed her damp body, she never learned to swim. Not really. Not beyond a doggy paddle.…

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