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...

This content is for 12 Short Stories in 12 Months members only.
Log In Register
12 Comments
Newest
Oldest
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments