Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

my thyroid was failing, a common, simple thing that any doctor could fix in a month.

He had taken that knowledge and turned it into a weapon, using my own exhaustion to convince my husband that my mind was rotting.

He had made Donald live in terror of being left alone, just to get his hands on the developer’s eighty thousand dollars.

I looked down at continue reading …