Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

the trowel, but his shoulder muscles went tight under his blue work shirt.

“Losing your grip today,” Donald said.

“Well now, the handle must have some oil on it from the shed door,” I said.

I picked up the tool quickly, rubbing my right thumb hard over my left index fingernail to hide the split edge. The pain was sharp, a dry ache that went straight into continue reading …