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Ray Scanlon | Thanksgiving

The brain within its groove is a freaking marvel. Dad had a stroke yesterday that would've felled an unluckier man. He sits up in his hospital bed, hands on the tray table before him. The fingers of his impaired dominant right arm want to curl. He flattens them out with his left hand, carefully separating them a hair, each gap exactly uniform. Establishing order in his disrupted life, his small gesture so moves me.

//first words excerpted from Poems, Series One Life:XXVI by Emily Dickinson//

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SF&D January 2012 | [First Words]  

[First Words] launches the new, expanded, print/web format of Short, Fast, and Deadly. With a full-length feature section on David Tomaloff,...