Fiction

 

Not Finished Yet – Three Perspectives

When we got to his dorm room, I tried to be cheerful, but I was shocked. If there was a rating for dorm rooms, the ones at the Conservatory would be at the bottom of the list. I felt the tears starting to well up. The dentist. Needles in my mouth. That helped. That’s what it felt like when I left my son in that town. A town where Pilgrims hung witches and Patriots threw tea in the harbor.

 

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