Winter 1963 • Vol. XXV No. 1 Fiction |

Herb

"It's a fact," he said. "Sure," I said. "I'm serious. It's a proven medical fact." "Okay. It's a proven medical fact." "You say that. But you don't believe it." "Right, Herb. I say it but I don't believe it." He didn't answer. But he hadn't given up. He was dauntless. He was perched on the edge of the couch, disheveled and corpulent. Old pigeons look that way when they're hunched up to keep warm. But with pigeons you can look the other way and walk off. Not so with Herb. I had no escape. He was Tina's uncle and normally would be Tina's responsibility. But with Tina in the hospital I had to take over. Herb had arrived unannounced around 9:00 that evening. He had taken the bus up from New York to save money and then spent $5.00 taking a cab from Boston to Cambridge. I had to be hospitable. But I really didn't know him well. I had met him for the first time at our wedding the year before and hadn't seen him since. When I opened the door I didn't even rec

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Charity

By Edith Konecky

"It's a fact," he said. "Sure," I said. "I'm serious. It's a proven medical fact." "Okay. It's a proven medical fact." "You say that. But you don't believe it." "Right, […]

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