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“You came,” her mother said. The words you came tasted like flat soda—sweet once, now just carbonated disappointment.
She hadn’t spoken to her mother in eleven years. bitter in the mouth pdf
Her mother closed her eyes. “Because I was a coward,” she said. The word coward tasted like nothing. That was the strangest thing. After all these years, after all the bitterness— coward had no taste at all. Empty. Hollow. Like the space where a tooth used to be. “You came,” her mother said
Linda broke off a piece of the photograph—just the corner, just the blue of the sky behind Thomas’s head—and put it on her tongue. Her mother closed her eyes
Her mother reached under the blanket and pulled out a photograph. A man in a navy uniform, smiling, one hand on the hood of a car. On the back, in pencil: Thomas, 1972, Norfolk .