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Molehill

Press play and the past repeats. With each sideway glance, you see the shadow of an arm raised ready to pound you. Fear brings a wave of phantom pain across your once broken ribs, now healed but permanently chipped cheek bone and never to bend correctly again pinkie finger.

The man you love was once an abusive alcoholic. You say you forgive, but you can't seem to forget. With all your might you try to turn a mountain of pain into a molehill: Each punch a memory, each memory a monument you worship daily; his repentance never quite big enough to overshadow them. Haunted, he leaves after years of trying. Now that he's gone the mountain crumbles to a molehill; forget joins forgiveness, and you sleep a lot easier.

Story by:

A. Antoinette Grizzle

26 February 2017