The Distant Joke
You keep the jar. It sits on the counter, heavy with the smell of rot and honey. It is your father’s. He is gone now, but the jar remains. You open it. You close it. The lid clicks. It is a small sound. It is the loudest sound in the room. Margaret comes in. She brings the coffee. She does not look at the jar. She looks at you. Her eyes are red. She has been crying. Or maybe it is the wind. The...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior