Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

in these aisles, watching the steam rise from the damp peat when the heaters kicked on at dawn.

A car engine rumbled in the distance, the headlights of Donald’s truck turning onto the gravel road from the highway.

I did not move from the gate. I stood with my briefcase clutched in my hand, waiting for the headlights to sweep across continue reading …