Writing samples

by emese filus

40 fingers

When it’s right, you’ll know it. That’s what I told myself over the years after every failed attempt at love, but I never really believed it. What was this rightness I was supposed to look for? And how would I ever recognize it?

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The Last Cigarette

His was the single light burning after silence had settled. He had learned to enjoy these quiet moments of vital solitude after the bathing, the take-out dinner, the bed-time stories, the glass of wine and the ritual conversation with his wife. He was sprawled in his battered armchair. Its tattered skin and misshapen lap were partial to him, and the feeling was mutual.

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