Posts Published by Rachel Jordan

Consolation Prize

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I waited for him at that same coffee table every day, and pictured all of the things I’d say to him. “Were you expecting me?” … “fancy seeing you here,” or, “Yes. I’m alive.”

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Relics of the Past

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The old man folded the pages, careful to crease them at just the right angle. He held his thumb to the flame, letting the heat lick at his fingertips, then pressed them to the paper, sealing the fold into a pocket.

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