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Kaleidoscope Set
Janet's Death
by Robert T. Tuohey
Twenty seasons have come and gone since Janet's death; within the last
year both of her parents have passed on. Today, I, the only person who
has ever had an intimate knowledge of the truth regarding her death,
am past 60. This winter I notice the chill more pronounced, the wind
more biting than greeting; these things are personal truths, of which
the thermostat knows naught. It thus appears to me that the greater
part of my life is now exhausted, and, by and by, will find myself
obliged to pay my natural debt. So be it; I believe I have done what
was within my strength to accomplish. There is, however, this final
work, this obligation of revelation, which I now undertake.
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Molly's Window
by Joshua Leverett
He still remembered it. Every night the memories would come back to him
in his dreams. The blood on his hands seemed so real even then. The
rain in the air still hung strong, and even in his sleep he could feel
the windshield broken in his eyes.
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The Man of the Crowd Revisited
by Berend ter Borg
He had finally lost the man. He hadn't come to London to be noticed.
He moved out of Herefordshire into the city, because he wanted to
come as close to invisibility as he could possibly get within the
context of the physically possible. To be dead and burnt, and the ashes
shattered in the wind, or buried in an unmarked grave -- that would be
good too. But he wasn't ready to give up on his life, some things still
needed to be done. Sixty-seven was a good age to die. And he would die
soon, he realized, he ate poorly and lived in unhygienic circumstances.
On some days it seemed everything was hurting at the same time -- and
whatever didn't hurt, was itching, which was a good alternative. In
fact, the irony was, that now, after a life that had been much too long
for him, he would still have to hurry up at the end. This delay had
been dreadful for that reason.
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