Tag Archives: Matthew David Manning

Remembering the Doorbell

I remember ringing the doorbell and asking if Evan or Perry could come out and play. I remember my mother asking me who was at the door and warning me to stay quiet as she lied about me not being … Continue reading

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Folding

When your mother lived with us, I decided I’d had enough of it and began hiding my dirty clothes. I was tired of coming home to find my clothes already cleaned, folded perfectly on the shelf. After a few days … Continue reading

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Hot Chocolate

Waiting for it to cool isn’t possible. You think, I can’t wait, I’ll risk a burn and close your eyes when you sip burning a memory on your tongue, helping forget another. Drink hot chocolate at a funeral. Everyone in … Continue reading

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The Ten Minutes between This and Something Else

I thought about times when Leonard Woolf’s wife had asked him to lay down on their lumpy feather-topped mattress just to be with her before organizing the afternoon medication. Their quilt-wrapped bodies suffocate and beg for a sniff of a … Continue reading

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