I destroyed Marjorie’s umbrella a dozen times: a trip to the library dumpster, to my brother’s Pennsylvania farm and his burn barrel. Every time, it reappeared in the break-room where Marjorie had left it that day she got caught in the sudden rainstorm, the day before she died of pneumonia.

Ann Marie Potter is in her last year of a PhD program at Oklahoma State University while enjoying her first year in the beautiful state of Wyoming. Her work has been published in The Storyteller, The Meadow, Peauxdunque Review, and Literally Stories.