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Contents Page: April 1, 2011, vol 7 no 1

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G. A. Scheinoha


End Result

"To pain and eventual triumph over the same." Helluva toast, but then what did he have to gain – or lose? He was dying. You could read it there in his eyes; eaten up from the inside out. Though loss never crossed those lips. The clink of glasses was a nerve jarring distraction. Several greedy, numbing gulps later, you left so he could finish what birth begins.

fatal spin;
revolver clicks
into the night

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