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  The Question

Tammy R. Kitchen

 


They laid between us, my words. I had only wanted to be honest and the ground was no longer steaming in the morning air. She had leaned on me for hours while I patted her arm. When she looked up again, she smiled, no teeth, but enough to draw lines in her cheeks. I squinted at her and yawned and her eyes weren't puffy anymore. I thought she would be okay.

"Is it my fault?"

I shivered and rubbed my eyes and dew dripped off the car. I opened my mouth and the words flew like vomit. My stomach hitched and the words kept coming. They thunked on the ground and she backed away from them, slow, as if she didn't want to draw their attention. Her eyes were red when she turned away and there was nothing else to do but go to bed.

 

 

 

Table of Contents

Tammy R. Kitchen lives in Michigan where she writes and takes care of children.  She has been published in The Story Garden, Ken*Again, and Poor Mojo's Almanac(K).  Her work is forthcoming in Prairie Dog 13 and Ascent.


 

 

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