Incredibly rude of days to just keep happening like this, one after the other
a short story from a manuscript in progress
I threaten to become vague.
Aditi Machado, The End
Moira doomscrolls, well into the new year. In bed with her morning coffee, she dreads what might come.
Paige is already dressed. She nuzzles in, pushes her way under the comforter. She says: “I don’t want to go to school today, Mumma.”
Moira sets down her phone.
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