Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

smiling elders in matching armchairs looked up at me.

The glossy brochure of the retirement home sitting on the coffee table like an ultimatum.

The waiting room of the Oak Creek Clinic smelled of old magazines and industrial lavender. Sarah sat in the vinyl chair beside me, her thumb and forefinger working her silver necklace so hard the metal clicked continue reading …