
Elizabeth Strout Reads "Motherless Child"
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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Why Did You Marry This Woman?
Olive asked Christopher why he didn't tell her Anne's mother had died. He shrugged and drove with one arm draped across the wheel. In the back seat, little Henry sang out, goggy, goggy,. train, airplane, daddy, mama. They made it through another night, and one more day, and then the final night arrived. Olive was exhausted. The children did not speak to her; they stared at her instead of glancing down.
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