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Paperclips and Memories and Things That Won’t Be Missed

by on May 6, 2014 in Short Fiction | 3 comments

750 Words The ghost in my attic is Margaret, but she lets me call her Margie. She was seventy–six years old when she died, and now that she’s a ghost she sits in her rocking chair day and night, holding a tiny baby in her arms. The baby rarely moves and almost never cries. His name is...

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