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For weeks afterwards I was seventy-six state lines away and smug as hell about that. I had no reason to be. I didn’t have the right. You gotta realize I’ve never been very brave. I didn’t want to tell anyone I loved them without some peace and quiet first. I figured the whole lot of us would get old and marvel at how little the kids of the day appreciate how many liquor stores they have to choose from. Statics were built in other countries and dimensions. That’s what I wanted to believe. I’m not smug anymore. I jump every time I hear a horseman coming by to collect and make sure the debtors never outnumber the gamblers fresh out of middle school. When I did visit I marvel at change by myself, and that’s exactly as lonesome as it sounds. Occasionally I see people my age, but they’re all amnesiacs in gorgeous Halloween outfits, and not a single one has recognized me. No harm, no foul since I don’t recognize them either.

Black Fox Literary Magazine Issue #3  

The Winter Issue of Black Fox Literary Magazine featuring new fiction, poetry, non-fiction and photography.

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