Blue Bottle From a Small Pharmacy Prompts a Search for Answers

room with his track jacket half-unzipped, his face the color of dry drywall.

“Miriam, look at this,” he said, holding his phone out before he even reached the rug.

I set the stamped paper down on the side table near the window. My finger went to my collarbone, tapping twice against the bone.

“What is it, David?” I asked.

He did not answer continue reading …