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James Joyce Style Short Story

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James Joyce Style Short Story They ate their dinner in silence that night. The usual somber talk that accompanied the food was gone. Her mother was happy about that. It was one less thing she would have to pretend to be happy about. With her good hand, she stirred her tea slowly with a long spoon. Her mother thought about the musky smell that she had always disliked. It was hard for her to be happy now, even with the newly fresh air surrounding them, because too many thoughts still swirled around her. As the 15 year old girl stood up to clear the table, she removed a bottle which had been standing in its center for the past two days. She quickly threw it into the trash with vigor. Then she proceeded to walk to the kitchen with the dirty dishes, on her way passing an old family portrait with the four. ...read more.


She could barely stand the silence; it was driving both of them crazy. She tried to remember the last time she had exchanged more than two words with her mother. She looked at the exhausted older woman, still seeing signs of pain on her face. It was interesting to her, because although her mother had lost the one thing in her life that was most hurtful to her, she had also lost one of the two others that she deeply cared for. The young girl looked at the free standing mirror in the corner of the room. She didn't see any human reflection because of the angle it was facing. She got up, passing her sleeping mother on the way out. She kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room, but her mother didn't stir and she assumed she didn't feel it. Turning the bronze doorknob and entering the brightly lit room comforted her. ...read more.


She zipped it closed and without looking back left the room in its current state of untidiness. Her bag felt heavier than it had looked, but she knew this was the only thing she could do to get away from it all. She hadn't realized until now, but she was feeling weak, tired and the clothes that she'd been wearing for two days now were dirty. She looked down the hall to see her mother still asleep in the cozy living room and then looked in the opposite direction to the front door of their house. She walked down the darkly lit hall and could see the light beside the door, showing her the way to walk. Swinging the bag over her shoulder carelessly, she knocked over a glass and the car keys, which were on top of a table. She heard her mother stand up, and looked down at the mess of keys, glass and liquid on the floor with a heavy heart. Quickly, she opened the door and slipped out, locking the heavy door on the way out and mentally mapping her way. ...read more.

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