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L. E. Miller Years fiction later, Ann saw one of the daugh- ters. She ended up seated beside her on a flight from New York to Chicago, the odds who knows how many millions to one. As strangers will in transit, they began talking. Ann learned that the woman taught high school English and was just now trying her hand at playwriting, that she had never married but had lived with someone off and on for years. After a while, exchanging names seemed beside the point. Ann wondered why this woman seemed familiar, but now that she was seventy-seven, almost everyone she met reminded her of someone she used to know. Still, there was something about her: an expression that was both discerning and compassionate, Photography by Rachel Gilmore WINTER 2007 / THE MISSOuRI REvIEW 79 those pale eyes of no discernible color, those graying curls poised to spring from their clip. When the flight attendant came by with honey peanuts, Ann's seatmate slipped her reading glasses onto the tip of her nose and peered at the list of ingredients on the package. Even this gesture echoed that of someone Ann had known years before. "I think I
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Jan 3, 2007
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