I love the writing of George Singleton. Love it. His stories are honest, humorous, and often heartbreaking. He does not disappoint with his story John Cheever, Rest in Peace in the Spring 2005 issue of The Georgia Review. Here’s a snippet to wet your whistle:

Owe’s parents named him Owen, but some kind of snafu at Graywood Regional Memorial caused the birth certificate to come back “Owe Posey.” His parents saw it as a sign and never fought the defect. Throughout his life, upon introducing himself, people thought he couldn’t finish a sentence beyond pronoun and verb. Owe would say, “I’m Owe,” and they’d expect him to continue—“I’mo go into town for a while,” or “I’mo buy me a flyswatter and put some entomologists out of business,” or “I’mo get me a beer—you want one?”

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