Finally, eight hours of sleep on spaghetti with white clam sauce made from scratch, spinach and mushroom salad, mozzarella garlic bread and Reisling prepared as a birthday dinner by the man. Flowers from Gus, coconut custard pie, good conversation, laughter that covered the thought of the card not received from my sister for the first time in fifty-eight years. A new year, another loved one lost to my life. Worse than by death, for by choice.
Flash Fiction Fridays
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- A Death in The Family
- At Swim Two Birds
- Barthes
- BASS
- Black Swan Green
- Blindness
- BLOGGING
- Borges
- Calvino
- Clockwork Orange
- Confrontation
- Consolation of Philosophy
- Cormac McCarthy
- DeLillo
- EDUCATION
- Faulkner
- Flatland
- Geronimo Sandoval
- Glimmer Train
- Henderson The Rain King
- if on a winter's night a traveler
- Ishiguro
- Jamestown
- Kundera
- Life of Pi
- LITERATURE
- Margaret Atwood
- Marquez
- Master and Margarita
- Munro
- Murakami
- Peter Taylor
- Plato
- Ploughshares
- POETRY
- provinces of night
- REALITY
- St. Augustine
- Steinbeck
- Suttree
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being
- Tropic of Cancer
- Updike
- William Gay
- WRITING
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"I will breakfast from the cupboard where uneaten dreams are kept"
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"I foresee the successful future of a very mediocre society."
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Oh dear God, I did it again. Happy Belated Birthday, friend. I hope this year spares you grief.
Thanks, buddy. No biggie–I’m just a bit wiser.
Belated happy birthday and I’m sorry for your sister, she has made a sad and very poor choice.