A Place Where Things Join, Thirteen

At the payphone Marian called home several times but couldn’t get through. She didn’t want to go home. Partly she was terrified of telling Kel the news, and partly she believed it was some kind of misunderstanding, something she should keep quiet because of the knack the world has for sorting these kinds of things out—she was scared of opening her mouth either way. She was scared of the mood she had left Kelly in—that deep, animal place where the soul resets; the one not written in the cards. Kel would wake up different. She wanted to buy something nice, and loitered outside of Kel’s preferred leather outlet, a place called Bamfords, while the children dangled upside down on the benches and complained of being bored.

Thanks for checking out this little part of my short story.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

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