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Emily O’Brien gasped and paled noticeably. “Stand still? God, how can I? They’re so noisy. Why, I’d be stung for sure?” Betty Ross shrugged her shoulders and set her water-pail on the ground. “Well, won’t you come inside for some breakfast then?” “Well, maybe just for some coffee.” “Alright then,” Ross replied, as she walked her neighbor to the back porch of her large home, which sat on two acres of relatively undeveloped land—out in Cherokee County. As she motioned her neighbor to a table on the back porch, Betty Ross walked into her kitchen and grabbed a pot of coffee from her stove. She brought it to the table, along with two porcelain cups and poured one hall-full of the dark liquid, then nodded towards the empty cup sitting in front of her neighbor. “Say when?” As she poured, the other woman smiled and cut her off when the cup was almost to the top. “I take it black,” she said and, as they sat sipping their java, Emily O’Brien smiled. “Oh, you do make a good cup of coffee, Betty.” “Why thank you Emily.” “Oh, it’s so beautiful out here, isn’t it?” “Yes-yes it certainly is and I hope it stays that way.”

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The Fine Line Issue 3  

The Fine Line presents its third compilation of art, fiction and poetry by contributors Francis Raven, Michael Young, Dorothee Lang, Raj Sha...

The Fine Line Issue 3  

The Fine Line presents its third compilation of art, fiction and poetry by contributors Francis Raven, Michael Young, Dorothee Lang, Raj Sha...

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