Fiction | June 01, 1993

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The afternoon was appropriate for a clandestine mission, the sky obliterated by a vast grey cloud, farmyards empty, not an animal or a child at play to be seen.  A bleak afternoon indeed when one failed to see even a nosey babushka on a stoop with a broom in hand pretending to sweep while gathering gossip for a meeting of crones at tomorrow morning’s church service, or with hands folded upon their chests.

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