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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 1, March 2018

Jenny Ward Angyal
Gibsonville, North Carolina, USA

The Intersection

"Happy New Year!" a voice greets me as I lock my car. A young man in a thin jacket approaches me, holding up both hands, palms outward. "I promise I won’t hurt you," he says. "Can I just ask you a question?" Startled, I nod my assent, although I'm eager to get out of the icy wind. "Do you know any back roads where I could walk to Durham?" Durham is a city fifty miles east of here.

"My house burned down," he continues, "and I got to get me and my little girl to Durham. I can carry her under my jacket, she's only two, her momma died in a car crash. I went to the police station, but they said I can't walk on the Interstate. I asked another white lady, but she said she don't talk to niggers."

Catching the look on my face, he asks me for train fare. When I say I don't have enough money with me, he walks away without another word.

cross for a moment
small blisters
on the surface of the soul



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