Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

into its frame. Robert’s mouth stayed open for a second, his teeth white against his pale lips, before he sank down into one of our painted kitchen chairs. He looked at his own knees, his hands flat against his thighs as if he were trying to keep himself from shaking.

“She was only doing what I told her to do,” he whispered. “She did not know about continue reading …