Fiction

Legacy

Twenty years since Vietnam. Hadn’t been in our garage in weeks. And when I opened the door, the stench of death and decomposition gagged me. Took twenty minutes moving junk around to find the body of the opossum. Called animal control, then dragged the body out to the curb on an old shovel, breathing in and out through my mouth, angry and shaking. Wanted to talk to my wife, but couldn’t find any words.

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