Archive for the Elizabeth Westmark Category

Detritus

Posted in Elizabeth Westmark, Junk 1: Fall 2010 with tags , , , , , , , on November 14, 2010 by Editors

by Elizabeth Westmark 

 

Dear Max,

I’ve reached that stage of life where my sins of omission far outweigh my sins of commission.

The old preacher who befriended you in that tiny town where you were living led us to the small frame house by the railroad tracks.

The dilapidated wooden swing on the porch whispered of better times. We slowly followed the reverend to the front door. He jiggled the key and twisted the loose knob, pushing on the humidity-swollen door until it opened.

Collectively taking a deep breath, we stepped over the threshold.

Oh, dear God, so this is how you were living.

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