Nonfiction | July 22, 2017
The Cataclysm of My Mother’s Spine
My mother doesn’t need to tell me about the bad days. The bad days when her muscles spasm and the bare nerves make her limbs go numb. The bad days when she’ll need more than just prescription pain pills. The bad days when I’ll go to the Kangaroo, the run-down gas station outside my neighborhood with its flashing security cameras and ice machines and wait for a guy we’ll call Terrance.
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