October 31, 2015

“Something was wrong with the grandmother. She would not get up from the dinner table. Her old hands were gummed up with red meat and white fat. Globules of the flesh dribbled from her fingers. The grandmother stared dully towards the hallway outside the dining room. Her eyes did not move. When the grandfather spoke in her ear, the grandmother did not react. The fat dribbled from her fingers. It puddled on the spotted tablecloth. The grandmother who did not like stains did not notice how dirty the cloth was although her hands were fixed upon it.”


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