Novel in Progress/An Excerpt (5)
Monday, November 2, 2009
She runs the tip of her tongue over the ridge of her mouth. She blinks, and a tear falls down through the pebble land of her freckles. From far away I hear the high gauze of a church song—bells. Sunday, I think, and somewhere there are everyday people in everyday cars going somewhere. There are the mothers, and there are the babies, and they are together.
5 comments:
Gulp.
Oops, the above comment is not E but me.
As the mom of three redheads, the "pebble land" traced by tears is a familiar sight and the phrase really creates a strong visual
Oh my god. This is why you write. Lovely.
Wow....
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