Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

window, its wings making a soft, rhythmic clicking in the quiet room.

“We have to check the physical records in the back cabinet,” I said, but my feet felt too heavy to move across the concrete floor.

“I will help you look, but we cannot let Dad see us searching like this,” Sarah said, closing the ledger with a sharp snap. “He already thinks you are continue reading …