Stories: the muse

by Chad V. Broughman “I don’t know why they left it.” Laurie’s tone was short; our move had rattled her. I strode to the mirror – chocolate-red frame, shiny finish and intricate trim work with whittled s-shapes and curlicues. It was tall and its legs sturdy and the feet were bowed like a lama’s jaw.… Read More Stories: the muse

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