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Grief; a short story
Short Stories Elicia Johnson Short Stories Elicia Johnson

Grief; a short story

I carried him eastward and laid him to rest where I thought he would be close to his mother and sisters.

I stayed two nights and one day there, fulfilling the traditional burial rest alone and leaving with the second moonrise. It’s an odd feeling, the leaving. You know that no matter how long you stay, nothing will change. But it doesn’t make it any easier to do.

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