The Reverie by Ana Diaz

“My mother told me just before she died Oh, Daughter, Daughter, Please don’t be like me.” (Motherless Child Blues, L.V. Thomas) It’s past 9 a.m. In her nightdress, still holding the receiver in her hand, M looks through the window panes, entranced. A light breeze carries swirls of gray every few seconds, like signals. It...

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