GATE

 


The gate was always shut. To leave it open was a sin, a crime against humanity, an act of negligence so awful it struck his father wordless, silent, dancing a short step jig of anger, face flushed, eyes bulging, fit to burst. He left it swinging and never came back.


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Published on July 21, 2017 05:26
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
Musings and writings of Dermott Hayes, Author
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