When I was very small, I sometimes sat on my dad’s lap in his recliner while he watched the news or a history program — the sober and studied voices of the commentators washed over me, the stories I found confusing. I matched my breath with his deeper inhalations, my head against his white undershirt. It required concentration and was difficult for my smaller lungs to hold as much oxygen as his. It was strangely comforting.

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Meghan Anderson Nathanson
"On Death and Cymbals"

In Galicia, northwest of the Iberian Peninsula, we like to bury our dead quickly. The passage from brand new corpse to six-feet-under should be completed in under forty-eight hours. It is good form to take under thirty-six.

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Eva Ferry