Maria Porges, ‘Shortest Story 24’, 2016, Tayloe Piggott Gallery

You didn’t believe it when it happened. I know that. But no one could have possibly imagined that she’d go that way. All I can tell you is, the day was beautiful—warm for January, some 40 degrees, and we went outside the back door just to listen to the birds. They were going nuts, yelling at each other and jumping around, so Juney waved her arms and started to sing right back, in that screechy voice of hers, and I guess the vibrations just knocked it down. The icicle hanging overhead, I mean. Heck, James—she was ninety-nine, and couldn’t remember a blessed thing beyond her dead twin sister’s name: Willa, lost to influenza before they turned sixteen. Now they’re together, after eighty-some years. Wonder if they’ll even recognize each other-- one so old, the other so young. Or maybe, they will look just the same, in that other place.

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