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I resent the single-mindedness that took me to downtown Manhattan yesterday. I rarely ventured that close to the seats of the powerful, but my need to see him was stronger than my reason. He held the key to the patrimony that would end my suffering: the un-ending, ignoble poverty to which fate and circumstances that I had not been able to transcend and which had proved so damaging to my soul had condemned me. Retaining nothing of the kindliness and charity which I believe I should have inherited from my mother, I joined my fatherís rapacious nature to my own deep-seated anger. I went to Manhattan to meet my used-to-be lover, my spouse, my banker, who, if I asked nicely would take me back, free me to live again that life of ease and privilege to which he had introduced me. I was going to go back to him, but I went to Manhattan yesterday, and I shot him.

Story by:

Virginia Winters

submitted at 11:14pm

8 July 2009

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