Ash Wednesday

I approached *Ash Wednesday* with skepticism: a short story about grief risks feeling either too abstract or mawkishly on-the-nose, but McLain sidesteps both pitfalls with devastating efficiency. The prose is so controlled it’s almost surgical, dissecting a family’s grief with clinical precision while still feeling achingly human. Hillgartner’s narration elevates it further—his voice has the texture of a man who’s weathered his own sorrows, and he balances the story’s sorrowful weight with a restraint that borders on reverence. That said, the production had me wishing for slightly more dynamic range in some sections; a few lines felt delivered with the same measured cadence, which occasionally dulled the emotional peaks. The real knock, though, is McLain’s refusal to tie things up neatly. The ending is abrupt in the best way—more a sigh than a resolution—leaving the listener to sit with the unresolved, which, honestly, is exactly where grief lives. If you’re looking for catharsis, this isn’t it. But if you want something that acknowledges the rawness of loss without pretending to heal it, Hillgartner and McLain deliver.