Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

my fingers wrapping around the bars. My grip was stronger today, the deep fatigue that had weighed down my limbs for three months finally beginning to lift as the daily medication did its work. My mind felt cold and clear, like the November air.

Robert had my keys, but he did not have the soil. He did not have the thirty years of mornings I had spent continue reading …