"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Thursday, March 5, 2009

This is a short story I've been working on. Here' part 1!

The girl started crying as she passed the open coffin. Her father, holding back tears, put his arm around her shoulder and somberly ushered her away. They stood together for the rest of the afternoon, quietly accepting the half-hearted "I'm sorry"s and "Just call if you need anything"s. After the reception, when the store-bought, crappy cookies and lemonade were all gone, they then proceeded to clean-up and started walking home. When she got to her room she removed the black woolen tights her mother gave her and pulled out her hastily written script for the eulogy she gave. The ink started to run as her tears spilt onto the page. This silent moment was all she did the rest of the day to mourn her mother's passing. At the same time, her father sat on his empty bed, fiddling with his wedding ring and cursing her name under his breath. "Oh god, Jenny, come back damnit!"

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