Blue Bottle From a Small Pharmacy Prompts a Search for Answers

rustling like dry husks as I sorted through them.

They looked dead, small brown lumps of nothing, but I knew what lay folded inside their dry skins.

“Start by the fence, David,” I said, tapping my finger against my collarbone.

“The daffodils go in the back because they grow taller.”

He pushed the spade into the dirt with a sharp crunch of dead roots.

He continue reading …