The End to a Story

(poems go here) I read a short story once, by a man named Hemingway about hills and elephants and a girl sitting at a train station waiting. The night my sister came home from the clinic I thought about that story and that girl – the sadness in her voice the resignation and anger and despair – and I realized you never know how the story ends. And so Mr. Hemingway I demand you wake up, come back and tell me if that girl ends up okay