“I’m leaving. France. Monday. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so don’t expect me to.” The words crawled out from her mouth so blandly, as if in an attempt to sneak in and impersonate those typically tossed around, part of our Saturday morning routine, as if she had asked something mundane like, “Pass the book review section, S'il vous plaî?” She was sitting Indian style in a chair across from me at the kitchen table, two delicate hands, nails perfectly manicured red, bright red, wrapped around her mug, our mug. She reminded me of ...
More..Jennifer Bland
Member since: March 2009
Articles Written: 8