Noir

Crimson splatters line the walls, crime scene tape girds the door. Shattered glass, a single lily, and pristine white shagpile carpet grace the floors.

He lifts the needle, abruptly silencing the Shostakovitch piano concerto.

Tipping back his trilby, he scratches his head. Who still uses a record player?

Image credit: SouthernRebel/pixabay

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A Reliable Sign

 

Saudamini squinted at the cloudless sky, trying to divine its hidden messages.

“Bring in the clothes, Amini!” she called to her daughter-in-law.

“Why, Amma? The sun’s shining!” Amini’s voice floated thinly from the small, bare kitchen at the far end of the house.

“Rain is coming.” Saudamini rubbed at her aching knees.

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Premonition

I left my baby lying there, lying there
I left my wee one lying there

A crying and alone

The moon she saw me flying there, flying there
The moon she saw me flying there
To the lake all on my own

The wind he heard me crying there, crying there
The wind he heard me crying there
And now my baby’s gone

“And now my baby’s go-.”

The last syllable of the lullaby entwined with a sob in Revathi’s throat. She fell into silence, still gripping the edge of the crib.

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Sun Salutation

Om

Aruna sat as cross-legged as she could on the narrow strip of foam optimistically passing for a yoga mat. This was her first time in this group.

Inhale

Oh-exhale-mmm. Rise into mountain pose.

Aruna scrambled to her feet, hands still palms together in front of her.

Arms pointing to the sky. Stretch your fingers to the ceiling and your tailbone to the floor. Continue reading