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I tell stories
100 words, or sometimes more

North – NaNoWriMo #19

I discovered my father was a liar while sitting with my cousin under a large oak tree.

“That way’s north,” I said, pointing to the mossy side of the trunk.

“Ain’t.” He brutally disabused me of the notion, not with facts I could argue but with a compass I could not.

I didn’t forgive my father for days. I felt betrayed, unsure of anything he told me.

Later, as the world became complicated, I understood why.

Now I have kids, I could explain the wars and famine on TV. Instead, I point at the moss, and say “That way’s north.”

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