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    <title>Jonathan Dozier-Ezell</title>
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    <description>Read daily updates of my 100 Words short story series, my blog, and periodic book reviews.</description>
    <managingEditor>jon@jonathandozierezell.com (Jonathan Dozier-Ezell)</managingEditor>
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    <title>100 Words: <![CDATA[ Weakness without a name ]]></title>
    <guid isPermaLink="true">http://www.jonathandozierezell.com/100words/180/Weakness-without-a-name</guid>
    <link>http://www.jonathandozierezell.com/100words/index.php?id=180</link>
    <description><![CDATA[ He stepped from the building with resignation in his calf, particularly in the way he lifted his leg and put it down again: forward motion without the feeling of moving forward at all. She had asked him what his weakness was, expecting something simple, some sort of detrimental quality that having been briefly attached could now be put safely away. But he could not find a name for his weakness. He'd failed to answer, and they would likely pass on him, on his strengths and on his weaknesses, all the various ones, even the greatest, the weakness without a name. ]]></description>
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    <title>100 Words: <![CDATA[ At the End ]]></title>
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    <link>http://www.jonathandozierezell.com/100words/index.php?id=179</link>
    <description><![CDATA[ At the end of the day, he thought, the sun sets, the moon rises, the flowers tighten their petals like delicate nooses around their own sumptuous beauty. The air will cool as an electric eye dims and cools once the power has been turned off. His power had been turned off&mdash;flipped like a switch. Did love fade like a stove eye or was it more like the brittle fracture of glass on a bare floor? Every evening holds in itself the promise of morning. But what about him, his promise, his love? Where was that? Where would it be? ]]></description>
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    <title>100 Words: <![CDATA[ Lovely Knees ]]></title>
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    <link>http://www.jonathandozierezell.com/100words/index.php?id=178</link>
    <description><![CDATA[ Beneath her dress, her legs were shaking like brittle limbs in a winter storm. Oh, she was supposed to be happy, all right. This was supposed to be a big day.<br /><br />
"Are you ready?"<br /><br />
Was she? She knocked her knees together. The only thing she was ready for was a stiff drink at the reception afterwards.<br /><br />
Knocking knees; lovely knees. Yes, those legs they had gotten her into this mess, hadn't they? Attractive; like a tractor beam, he'd said.<br /><br />
But who was he? And what was this fear? Suddenly she didn't know. Suddenly, she wondered, suddenly walking down the aisle. ]]></description>
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    <title>100 Words: <![CDATA[ Where Was Gail? ]]></title>
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    <description><![CDATA[ As the smoke cleared, Robert looked up hoping to find his wife still among the living. He searched the wreck that had formerly been his private jet. They'd wanted a weekend in the mountains; well, now they had one. But if Gail was dead or, worse, never to be found, what then? <br /><br />

He could see helicopters overhead searching for him. He wanted to wave, but his hands were busy supporting his weight as he climbed over the wreckage. Never mind him, he thought; he was okay. But where was his wife? The search beam splashed his face. Where was Gail? ]]></description>
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