Son Set

“I’m sorry, son,” she said with tears in her eyes as she pulled back both hands, tightening the noose o’ the veggie rope narrower.

The wetness spread from the veggie rope to her fingers.

The horn sounds spread to her ears.

But when she dropped the veggie ropes, the wetness wouldn’t let go, the horn sounds wouldn’t leave her ears.

No matter how far she wandered, the wetness & the noises remained. No matter how many times she washed her hands or shook her ears, the wetness & the noises remained.

& all Nguyệt could do was wander through that sunset rainshower & babble to herself, “I’m sorry, son.”


Jute, Kill, Son