Arthur pen drawing of hidden animals decided who kept the lake cabin

corner of the wood. The wood was cold and dry under my fingertips.

I thought of the March nine tax receipt tucked in my coat pocket. Raymond’s words came back to me, raspy and quiet, warning me to keep it safe.

But sitting alone in the silence, the paper felt like nothing more than a scrap of hope in a house that was slipping away from me.

I looked at continue reading …