Poetry

“Last Supper” by Whit Griffin.

“They found the woman’s body
under the porch of an abandoned
house,” Mary told me on the
second floor of the bookstore.

“She had been preparing a meal
and discovered she lacked one
of the ingredients. She was one
her way to the store when she
disappeared.”

Mary began to sob as she read me
the newspaper story.

“I just wish I knew what she
had been preparing. I want
to finish it for her so much.”

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