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SENHORA OLIVIA

Senhora Olivia, known until recently as Senhora Russmen, is staring at her long-haired Maltese. Her husband and retired Marine Lieutenant, Alfred Russmen, died six months ago while receiving treatment for cystic fibrosis. Senhora Olivia tries not to revisit that morning, but the image of the doctor — a blur of alabaster — running in her direction down the world’s longest corridor, keeps bursting forth without warning. There’s been a complication, he said, standing between the couch and the coffee machine. Before she could process the end of her husband’s life, she thought of the irony of a thirty-five year marriage ending in a “complication.” As if after the children, the three decades of daily routine, the Belarusian lover and the leap-year sex, their marriage should have been immune. The Maltese approaches, sitting on his haunches and tilting his head like a lost child. Senhora Olivia readjusts herself in the armchair so as not to see him. There’s no room for little Tobias. Since the death of her husband, she has sought isolation in her room and avoids going to the ground floor of the house. She showers on autopilot. When hunger strikes, she drags her body to the kitchen as if hauling sacks of groceries from the supermarket. She collects the bills the postman leaves at the door with the same grimness she uses to greet her children and nephews on the weekends. She lives at the mercy of time, the gradual emptying of the sugar jar her only measure of the passing days. They would have celebrated their wedding anniversary one week

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2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

Profile for cusoa