Wednesday Night Lights by Victor Floyd

Locate me in the back row of the church choir. It’s not difficult. Since it’s rehearsal night, there aren’t that many of us, and even fewer if you are looking at the men’s row. That’s me, younger than the geezer profundo over to my left. I’m young enough to be the the son of the forty-something tenor to my right. He sings ahead of the beat. I was pressured to join because I play the piano. Never let them know you can play the piano, by the way—free advice. This is one of my first (respectable) adult activities: the church choir.

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Miss Hart vs. The State by Carlie Morgan

This story deals with subjects that some readers may find upsetting.

 

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I’m willing the old lady to take her seat already so the driver can go. Come on, come on, old girl, just pick a seat, any seat.

“Please take mine,” I say and stand. She smiles a paper-thin smile and eases herself onto the damp fabric. I hold onto a pole as the bus shudders onwards and we’re off again.  I take out my phone and replay the message. “Miss Hart, Tabitha is unwell again. Please come and pick her up as soon as possible.”

The way Tabby’s teacher lingers on the word “again” sends a painful throb to my stomach.

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