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What's the protocol for telling people your spouse has cancer? How do you tell your son, your friends, your co-workers? How do you tell your mother? How do you tell her mother?
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That led to the first aid box on the bed at 3 in the morning, but what about those veggies?
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published in The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review.
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When my feet touched the ground on the tarmac at Bagram I cannot begin to describe the feeling I had. It was as if God had spoken to me directly, whispering in the cold mountain air: “Son of Marjan, I welcome you.” The feeling took hold and overcame m
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At night, I wake up, and Daddy's in the bathroom with a hanger in his mouth....
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Get something cheap and light at Target. Trash hell out of it. Encourage baby to urp up in it.
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Johan was telling stories about the occupation. The Germans were stupid, he said.
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Chills begin on my hand where his cool lips meet my skin and ripple through me. I try to focus on the road and cock my eyebrow. “Not bad for a 15-year-old.”
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How would you like to leave the land of your ancestors, the place of your birth, the home of your identity?
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Give me back my / singularity, my tristesse, my photo ID.
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The ice in my drink provides ample cooling. The brew strength of my tea is just such that it combines in a pleasing fashion with the melting ice. My mind is clear and my belly absent hunger. I am completely sated from any physical desire at this very mome
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First off, don't worry about the marriage. It ain't gonna last. But don't worry. People will drive you nuts with that tiresome old chestnut, “there's more than one fish in the sea.” Thing is, they're right. Listen. I'm not talking salmon and sea bream…
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Although radiation and chemo rendered him a wraith...
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I awake one morning to find that still,
the leaves continue to fall.
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Joaquin Phoenix has inspired me to quit writing and purse my true lifelong passion.
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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.
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One night he woke up with Underdog laying next to him, breathing softly. He marveled at how fiction could make reality so much better.
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Children, afraid of dogs cried. There was uproar of melee. Children strained at their leashes to get away.
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Sex is a sad reason to be alone with someone.
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[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.
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I've heard of sucessful marriages where there's very little sex.
My heart aches for that kind of love.
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We've come this far. That's all we know. We've watched others reach their abrupt ends. They've given us this exact moment and we've taken it from them, sometimes without thinking. It's time for the next communication. I know what concern is…
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"Jesus was a zombie?" I ask, shocked.
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When she was nineteen, she began to brew a baby in her belly. She named it, and sang to it, and organized the leftover hand-me-downs that hadn't been worn ragged through by the first seven sets of recipients.
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Alicia got to third block early and scribbled down some of the derivatives homework. Others trickled in intermittently, drifting to their seats like impurities getting caught in a filter.
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Bootsy awoke with a hangover that only brain surgery could cure, a hangover that caused a seam to open in the known universe, leaving Bootsy on one side while all other matter sped away, away.
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He reveled in the chase, giddy when just out of arm’s reach. When to catch him, that was the question.
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Though some days... I feel as though I'm nothing more than the ultimate hedged-bet should the offender be living out his last days on earth, holding my arm as we both feel our way through the long dark corridors of tragedy.
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