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	<title>Marbers Musings &#187; short story</title>
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	<description>by Mark F. Weber</description>
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		<title>The Empress of Del Mar</title>
		<link>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/15/the-empress-of-del-mar/</link>
		<comments>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/15/the-empress-of-del-mar/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 Nov 2009 02:00:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mark</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Cancer]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Coast]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Del Mar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Funeral Videos]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hope]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Infant Death]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Priorities]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sunset]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Torry Pines]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://markfweber.com/?p=122</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Peering through the camera, Scott whirled his zoom lens, sneaking by the cactus until his client, the Empress of Del Mar, came into focus.  Her highness didn’t look up, but continued studying the script, neatly printed on three-by-five cards.  A short hike behind her, down a winding path, shadows from the salmon colored cliffs pierced [...]]]></description>
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		<title>A Flower</title>
		<link>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/a-flower/</link>
		<comments>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/a-flower/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 03:05:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mark</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hope]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Lupus]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[painting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sister]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[suffering]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[  My sister is painting a gift for me.  It’s a flower.  She’s a beginner, not that it matters.  My flower will be a masterpiece. Chris lives hours away.  I imagine her working at the easel.  She probably keeps her eye close to the canvas.  An illness called Lupus hampers her vision, often blinding an [...]]]></description>
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		<title>The Dragging</title>
		<link>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/the-dragging/</link>
		<comments>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/the-dragging/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 01:25:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mark</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dragging]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[drowning]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[lost loved one]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[redemption]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[An empty canoe bobbed gently in the muddy current.  Someone tied it to the bridge.  Fire fighters and other volunteers scrambled frantically along each riverbank searching for its last occupant . . . Todd Bierman.  No one saw him fall in.  The overturned canoe and a bright orange life jacket were found floating nearby. His [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
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		<title>The Rocker</title>
		<link>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/the-rocker/</link>
		<comments>http://markfweber.com/2009/11/11/the-rocker/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 00:56:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Mark</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[father]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[missing loved one]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mystery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rocker]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[short story]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Something was missing!  Strewn across the floor, pieces of oak formed a wooden jigsaw puzzle.  The smell of varnish and sawdust penetrated the mildew of the basement.  There should have been two curved rockers.  I tried to imagine a rocking chair with just one. A few days earlier my father chided me about my organizational [...]]]></description>
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