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Dissolved by Brenda Blakey

After the storm, we surfaced to shovel the snow. There we found a single impervious boot, the sock still inside it as if the body had somehow dissolved. The boot, a grave marker, left no trace of frostbite or heartbreak. Our shovels softly scratched against the concrete, a funeral hymn.




Brenda Blakey hails from Atlanta and enjoys writing fiction and poetry even more than eating snow-cones and popsicles. She does not own a cat.