shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Nancy Lubarsky

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My Father's Visit

Finally asleep – a new mother's exhaustion – I hear keys jiggle
downstairs. My father, retired, widower, lets himself in earlier than
usual. His loneliness always in the guise of help. I'm at the top of the
stairs ready to scold him, but there's only an empty vestibule. Later, he
would tell me at that moment he was in bed choking, gasping for air.