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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Babcock ponders his identity.

Submitted: November 29, 2011

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Submitted: November 29, 2011




Babcock was his name.

A borrowed name from his father;

Borrowed from his father’s father and the father before him.

Babcock would one day lend his name to his son, if he ever had one.

He’d lend his name to Mrs Babcock, if she ever chose to exist.

But so far in life all he had was this borrowed name, a room in which to live and a penchant for cigarettes.

The fired burned cold in his room and his cigarettes tasted of the cancer they foreshadowed.

His father was long dead, as was his mother;

He hadn’t a wife and he hadn’t a son.

Above all he was a Babcock and he clenched the name in his hand like the last moment before life ebbed into death.

© Copyright 2018 Sylvia Cecilia . All rights reserved.

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