I Keep Meaning to Write About the Day You Were Born

“I’m not saying in those years I tried to forget you but I tried to stop remembering you… I could not forget you anymore than I could forgive myself for trying to.”

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First Morning After

“When JD is gone, I run the third-floor shower as hot as I can stand it. Hotter. I sit hunched in my aunt’s pristine clawfoot tub and rock, scratching at my skin flaring red as it scalds. A leaden balloon swells in my gut, full and empty at once. My body is cavernous. My bones are hollow. I slink into the bed where he was an hour ago.”

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In which I love the literary witchery of Shirley Jackson

“Some have said Jackson was also a literal, practicing witch, but I don’t think we can ever know for certain – and I don’t think we should try to work it out, either.”

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