Daughter

[Dorothy Pendleton]

I don't even know you until a student asks me, "Wie sagt man "hit-and-run" auf Deutsch?" and tells me you have been killed by a car.

Your husband goes out to see why you have not returned from your morning run and finds the emergency crew still at its roadside work.

He leaves the scene to pick up your seven-year-old son at school where the teachers help him tell the boy he will never see you again.

You are gone.

And yet I look for you instinctually at the restaurant, hoping to find you there among the other families, reunited after the long work day, your younger son smiling up at you as he piles noodles on the table with his sweaty fingers.

Then his narrative won't begin every time, my mother died when I was four.

[Sandra Davies]

Such a voice to this!   Cool, controlled and individual.   And yes, that final line.

[Dorothy Pendleton]

Didn't know how to attribute the title to you.  Was thinking expressly of your "Daughter."  Should have tagged you, I guess.

[Kristine_ES]

the last sentence, Dorothy. the whole scene so strong but the last sentence.  damn.

[Angela]

My favorite line was the fifth, with its authentic sort of texture.

[Mike Handley]

Good to see you again, Dorothy. I see the red marks and creases on and in your wrists and typing fingers on this one. Constraint is tough!

[Gita]

Oh, KILLER last line! Really like how you built the story in the first five and slipped the knife in my heart with number six.