My Mother Remembers Act V, Scene V
1November 2, 2026 by The Citron Review
by Margaret Dunn
She taught literature in Queens, tying boys’ ties before turning to Dickens and iambic pentameter. In ’91, a student was robbed at the bus stop. After that, she waited with him each night until his bus came, then rode home late to mark essays and recite Hamlet at the sink.
Now that boy—grown, with kids—sits in my kitchen. My mother repeats the monologue in full. He tells her that was wonderful. She nods kindly, saying nothing.
I walk him to his car. Inside, my mother puts the kettle on, then looks up at me.
Who are you? she asks.
Margaret Dunn is a writer from New York. Her short fiction has appeared in SmokeLong Quarterly, L’Esprit, Princeton’s Nassau Literary Review, Broad Ripple Review, and elsewhere. She was the recipient of the University of Pennsylvania’s Honors Thesis Prize for her short story collection Babies and won Intrepid Voice’s Emerging Writer Prize in 2025. Her nonfiction has appeared in Esquire, The Cut, and Curbed. She is currently at work on a novel.
[…] In this issue, I’m particularly thankful for the inspiration and connection present in our writers’ work. Humanity isn’t lost in these universes, but in each micro I see fresh ways to tangle and detangle our emotional investment in life itself. Meg Pokrass’ “Infestation” doesn’t fear the grounding importance of a cultural reference amidst the overwhelm of unwanted visitors. Sherrie Flick’s, “Cherry Pie” explores a saccharine rejection of sorts. Is it triumphant as well? In Jill Kitchen’s, “wound” and “minor chords” we experience sensory overload while wolves howl their songs. Sumaiya Aftab Ahmed’s, “A Rush-Hour Rush,” revives Craigslist’s Missed Connections with grace. Nora Maynard searches closer to home in “The Only Known Photograph of Your Great-Grandmother.” Kasumi Parker’s, “The Volcanologist” takes on the gravity of knowledge. In our final micro, Margaret Dunn explores the surprising and slippery nature of our abilities as we age in “My Mother Remembers, Act V, Scene V.” […]