Road Noise

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tags: fiction

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My father can sing you the name of every bone in your body. That’s not bragging; that’s true. He shoots x-rays over at St. Francis Hospital, and he made up this song with the doctor names, the Latin names, of all those bones. He used to put me to bed with his bone song. Now and again he hums it to himself when he’s patching the roof or when he’s driving. I know only a part of it, the part that names the hand….

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