January 24/365

But instead, Mary Margaret stood behind Nann, and rested her cheek on the old woman’s back, feeling her world quake.

Restless spirits may not be bound, but their journeys can begin to spiral closer to home. Mary Margaret worked in Baltimore, then Philadelphia, then Scranton. “At this rate, I’ll be working in Hell next,” she thought, on a particularly dank morning in Scranton. Dirty snow skimmed the slag mounds around the city. Mary Margaret was turning thirty-three. “I am as old as Jesus Christ,” she told Nann when she called.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

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