Blurry's published ficlets
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Blessed
One by one, they come to me. I dance for them, I sit on their laps, I stroke their hair and they are absolved. In the dark, u…
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On the Cusp: Snapshots
The scrapbook lies open in my lap. I don’t remember opening it. Familiar faces look up at me and I silently ask them if they …
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The Book
The sound of Crenshaw’s shoes slapping against wet pavement boomed and echoed in the dark alley as he ran. He threw himself a…
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