Fiction Author: Katie Murray

Self-Portrait

I painted myself, and you tucked up tight and right, in oils the hues of love and longing. Even oil paints dry the layers of time they remember. I remember the surging love, the tiny fists and clamour of heart beats. The awe and the emptiness of having someone so loved inside become suddenly outside. …

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Squandered Love

Yes, we were in love, your father and I. For a time. And yes, we were separated before you turned five years-old, your brother, just two. Yes, we were young. Just a year older than you are now. But you can’t blame youth for everything. We squandered love as quickly as your dad would snatch …

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