Duff's Ashland
Nobody would ever tell you, except at a place like Duff’s Ashland (“Your source for AC Delco parts”), that during the last real war the trenchcoated men charged with informing wives that they were no longer wives would attempt to sweeten these moments with canned phrases, faux sentiment written by higher ups, like, “Your husband met his maker on a snow white beach beneath palms bent in prayer.” Most folks are brittle by the time they understand that that’s what they think of us, that we are like children to be riled and soothed on a whim with campfire horrors and a mother’s lullaby. Hell. Then what can you do? We’re ordering pork chops with gravy from a gal down the road that does good home cooking. You want something while you wait?
Read Coleman Larkin's previous work in Still
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