5/24/2023 0 Comments Ashes by ilsa j bick![]() ![]() She stood a few feet away from the gas station’s bathrooms in a blush of salmon-colored light from the setting sun. So Aunt Hannah said bloody quite often, especially in church. She was originally from Wisconsin-Sheboygan, which Alex didn’t think was a real place until the Everly Brothers mentioned it-and said bloody was way better than other swears because all her friends, most of whom were Lutherans, thought she was just being cute: Oh, that Hannah. What the bloody hell’s in Michigan?” Aunt Hannah’s second husband had been a Brit. “I had to get gas.” Which was really neither here nor there. When she’d spotted the WELCOME TO MICHIGAN sign-GREAT LAKES! GREAT TIMES!-she felt a sense of things opening up, expanding, as if she’d been traveling in a perpetual night on a lonely road hemmed by a thick, black forest and was only now getting her first glimpse of the sun. “I just crossed into Michigan,” Alex said, choosing the easiest question first. “WHERE ARE YOU?” AUNT HANNAH DEMANDED AS SOON AS Alex thumbed TALK. ![]() I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes … ![]()
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