Copyright © 2010 by Susan J. Kroupa
Published by Laurel Fork Press
Susan J. Kroupa
The first time I met Mr. Death was the day my mam died. We’d had a long dry spell, rain scarcer than cicadas in the winter. Instead of mist settling in the hollows at night we got dust. Every day the Missus would walk out to the garden and come back shakin’ her head.