Human

The Artist. The artist turned his face away from the official-looking envelope so that when he coughed he wouldn’t mist it with droplets. Then, carefully, he removed and examined the contents, bringing them closer to the candle.

“We eagerly await your response,” the letter finished. Read

 

Mother’s Gift. Mother’s death hovered on the fringes of my reality. Only that morning we had dined downtown, the reservation set for 11:30. Read