deborah brinson
Joined May 2023
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Stories (1/0)
Dad's flowers have fallen
The new auditorium was full of people. We graduates sat in the first eight rows, and I sat in the middle seat in the first row. There was a pink phlox on my lapel, which my mother had picked from the yard and pinned on me when I arrived. She said, "Your dad planted the oleander. Wear it like he did when he saw you on stage!"
By deborah brinson11 months ago in Fiction