6 min read


In this short Horror tale, an up-and-coming young lawyer learns that inter-generational obligations cannot easily be discarded. And for her, there may be no escape.
Photo by Kev Bation / Unsplash


by Cody T Luff

The shoebox of human teeth sat on a white gym towel dripping on the locker room floor. Sadie’s fists were twisted in the thighs of her yoga pants, her feet pumping the floor in a staccato slap of flesh on tile. Her mother’s locker yawned at her, the dark rectangle offering a glimpse of her mother’s old trainers, an old white pill bottle of antihistamine, and a sweater dangling from a skeletal wire hanger. Her eyes kept drifting back to the shoebox. Like nude scrabble tiles. Like dead white beetles. Like a box full of broken pottery.


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