A Greenhouse in Late September and the Harvest That Saved My Husband

I tipped three of the white tablets into my palm, watching them roll against the creases of my skin, before sliding them into my apron pocket along with the bottle.

The drive to Dr. Higgins’ clinic took twenty-four minutes, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white against the black vinyl. I did not look at the passing fields continue reading …