Tag Archives: Lynn Mundell

The Thief

Each day he took something. The right breast of the mother. The grandfather’s supper. The child’s teacher. Sometimes he’d leave something in exchange, but it was always lesser. Selma’s black hair was replaced with gray. Over time, her brush stilled, … Continue reading

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Mother’s Day

Today she didn’t want to wash dishes, so they gathered around and ate sausages out of a pan together, noisily, a clan of cave people. Perversely, she also wanted to be alone, so the boys went to the pier. She … Continue reading

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