The applause was a roaring sea, but it wasn’t for me. Not really. I stood on the stage, the black graduation
The applause was a roaring sea, but it wasn’t for me. Not really. I stood on the stage, the black graduation
My name is Sophia, and I am twenty-six years old. I never thought I would wake up in a hospital bed
— I’m not going to the funeral, that’s not my son. — Mom, what are you saying? It’s your son’s, my husband’s
😨😲After my cat brought home puppies from who knows where, a policeman knocked on the door. His words
I recently read about Josephine Myrtle Corbin (May 12, 1868 – May 6, 1928), a woman who was born with
The cake stood untouched, its forty candles flickering like accusers in a courtroom. The forced smiles
The earth thudded dully against the coffin lid. Each strike hit Stella’s heart. Her daughter, Nancy
Catherine Sullivan woke to the suffocating press of satin and the chilling finality of silence.
The funeral flowers had only just begun to fade when the calls started. I was in my kitchen on a Thursday









