Mourning Dove

by Claire Fullerton

It never occurred to her to try to fit into a culture already firmly in play; it was far easier for her to sway the uninitiated to her gravitational pull.

I would have gladly shared in my mother’s emotions, if only I knew what they were, but she was not one to reveal her layers. I never saw her admit to the complete gamut of emotions inherent in all of mankind, and I thought it was because not all of them played well on her stage. I often wondered if she even possessed unattractive emotions, or if they’d shriveled up and died from lack of use.