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Randy calls just before midnight on our old anniversary, the one he always had trouble remembering. In a voice bathed in Jack Daniel’s, he apologizes for phoning so late, sheepishly admitting that he’s dialed my number and hung up at least half a dozen times. He says that he regrets walking out on me and that he misses the life we used to share. Then he asks if I’d consider going to the Brewers game with him tomorrow night for old times’ sake. Careful not to wake the sleeping infant in my arms, I quietly hang up the phone.

 

 

 

Lori Cramer writes fiction of various lengths, from Twitter fiction to novels, but her favorite length is 100 words. Her work has appeared in Boston Literary Magazine, Postcard Shorts, Pudding Magazine, Seven by Twenty, and the 11th Annual Writer’s Digest Short Short Story Competition Collection. She lives in Central Pennsylvania. Twitter: @LCramer29.

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