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Vol. 14, No. 2

Things Said or Done
by Ann Packer

“By the way,” my father says, “I’m probably dying.”
     Except for sleep, we’ve been together nonstop for the last thirty hours, ever since we met at the Hartford airport yesterday morning, but he has chosen this moment to unburden himself: this moment, when we’re carrying folding chairs through a windowless corridor in a neighborhood community center in Berkeley, California. Well, I’m carrying folding chairs, my elbows sticking out as the bottoms of the chair backs dig into my curled fingers, while he is empty-handed, strolling back toward the storage room.

To read the rest of this story and others from the Summer 2010 issue, please purchase a copy from our online store.

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