The Eulogy

CAUTION: This story contains references to domestic violence and descriptions of childhood emotional abuse.

I stood at the podium looking out at the sea of faces, unfamiliar and familiar, the funeral director’s words still ringing in my ears. It’s okay to be raw and honest. There’s no right way to grieve. They’re just looking for the  comfort of a shared experience from you.

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Don’t Pea the Bed

John re-read the note, wondering if he’d overstepped.

Thanks for the hospitality.

I had a hard time sleeping, so I did some investigating. Lo and behold! I found a dried chickpea under my mattress.

I can’t believe you tested me!

Penelope

P.S. Calling yourself a real “Prince” is creepy.


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Milestones

Shanti wound her window down and inhaled the fumes. She loved these late-night gas station runs with Appa. It was their time together. No Amma worrying over money, or which Aunty had insulted her this week. No Anna, pretending to be older than his years, trying to impress Appa by discussing politics like a good son, or whether the stock market was a pig or a cow; some animal Shanti couldn’t remember. It was just her and Appa, an exclusive event.

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