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A Peculiar ConversationLenore: Hello Miss Murder.
Miss Murder: Good evening Lenore. How are you fairing?
Lenore: I'm quite well. How about you?
Miss Murder: I'm as good as ever.
Lenore: That's excellent.
Miss Murder: Tell me, Lenore, what brings you to my corner of the world?
Lenore: Oh, I was just passing through and figured I would stop by for a quick visit. It's been so long since we last talked.
Miss Murder: Indeed it has. But I find it difficult to believe that you are simply passing through these parts. After all, this is the land of nightmares.
Lenore: True, very true; I suppose I came by to ask a favor of you.
Miss Murder: What kind of favor?
Lenore: Just a simple favor; it's nothing grand or deadly or harmful to anything.
Miss Murder: In your opinion it isn't but in mine it very well may be.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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