Excerpts
from Perceptions 2004:
.:Fiction:.
From Focus,
by Cheryl Smith
I thought that if I
focused on the tissues tearing apart in my throat, it wouldn’t
hurt so bad. Saliva kept pooling in my mouth, unable to force its way
down. In my lap was a pile of Kleenex sopping with the excess fluid.
The sticky whiteness of the mound moaned too. I watched bubbles spit
and pop and ignored the priest throbbing at the graveside. Instead,
I focused.
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