The Scarf
by Zdravka Evtimova
Her home, that volcano of squabbles, swamp of eternal penury and central heating radiators that were cold like sepulchers made her accept Emil each Thursday at 6 PM, waiting for him at the front door, a smile of rubber on her face.
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Ashes, Memory
by Yvonne Chism-Peace
For a few seconds only, time is suspended in the old-fashioned living room of this sturdy residence along a quiet thoroughfare. The ramrod old white man, the humped-back very old white woman, and the short-legged brown and white terrier stand like a tryptich surrounded by their own solitude and the meditation of the Negro student."
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