With fists, with words, with kindness
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Jackie Shannon Hollis lives with her husband in Portland, Oregon, where their cat, Fred, often sits at the windowsill and looks out at the cedar trees while she writes. Her work has appeared in Rosebud, the Rambler, High Desert Journal, and Oregon Literary Review, and she has completed a novel, for which she is seeking an agent. A different version of her essay in this issue, called “Subtitles,” was published in May 2005 in the online journal MARY.
You are not ashamed. You are stunned: By this new thing that he left behind, that spread through you like blood in those hours he was with you. By how easy it is to die.