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Paul Beckman (USA)


Me and Dad were sitting on the bus stop bench telling knock-knock jokes waiting for Mom when he pointed to the rooftop of a building where there were several men hand-cranking a crane. They were winding a rope that was attached to a safe. There were two more men in an open window below them trying to pull the safe into the building with another rope. Mom spotted us as she came out of the dress shop and waved and headed for the cross walk. We waved back and then watched the rope break and the safe fall end over end landing right side up on top of Mom. We ran to her, but it wasn’t until Dad pulled me away that I realized that she was dead. I was eleven years old. I go by the name Pincus. That’s it, a one-word name like Elvis, Madonna, or Judas. That’s…