Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

up.

“Well now, the soil always recovers if you give it the right nutrients,” I said.

He looked down at our hands, still resting near the valve handle.

“I was afraid, Martha,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

The autumn sun was sinking below the ridge of the hills, throwing red and gold light across the hundreds of glass panes above our heads.continue reading …