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Mary Jane Ryals teaches narrative technique and writing at Florida State University and lives on thirty-seven acres of woods in the middle of Tallahassee, Florida.
I don’t sleep. My head’s a bunch of clacking pool balls, worrying around about things. That’s why I hear Mrs. Patterson tiptoe into my room. I can see from the hall light it’s her: she’s wearing her hospital gown, her red high heels, red kid gloves, and matching purse.
August 1995Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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