Fall 1968 • Vol. XXX No. 4 Fiction |

Paper Poppy

Miriam Rugel PAPER POPPYIT IS ONLY BY THE MOST CURIOUS INDIRECTION THAT ONE COMES to realize what is happening to other people. Their crises. Their passions. Common to all, these are the keys to all, if one's gaze is focused at the proper time and position. Yet how often the crises pass unseen and unsuspected, by intimates, closest family, friends. It is difficult at times even to recognize one's own. One does not always hear the sound of the key, turning. If I had not met Katherine, perhaps I would not have seen what I saw at the health club. And, if I had not looked into my husband's face then, I might not have followed Mister Robert with such absorption. Into this danger. Terrible danger. Was I a little in love in the beginning with Mister Robert? It is easy for an older woman, married young to the wrong husband-through no fault, no fault of his-to be touched by a beautiful boy. By eyes with the color and movement of a star sapphire, by golden hair. It was not always golden, Mist

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