The Distant Promise
My mother said I was a ghost before I was born. She said it with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She said it while scrubbing the blood from the basin. The water turned pink. Then red. Then clear. She looked at me. I was a squirming thing. I was not a promise. I was a mistake. We lived in the house on the hill. The stones were cold. The air was thin. My mother, Eleanor, was tall. She moved...
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