Where the Dead go to Die
Mama Metcalf said, pushing against the table as she got to her feet, “I’d say supper is just about ready.”
Emily and Lucette—darlings that they were—told her how delicious everything was, but Mama Metcalf thought the turkey was too dry and the potatoes too lumpy. Something was off about the deviled eggs as well, maybe not enough mayo. Still, it was nice to be sharing food with people she liked. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed the meal with her son and his husband the previous evening, but Erik and Paul were both vegetarians and had brought over something called ‘tofurkey’, which tasted like boiled tires, or so she imagined.
“I like your sweater, Mama Metcalf,” Lucette said, nibbling on a slice o
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