Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

hallway struck six with a heavy, brass resonance that made the water glasses vibrate.

Robert adjusted his collar. “We need a smooth transition, Donald. Before the November fifteenth deadline.”

Donald nodded, his mouth a straight line. “Time is short.”

By seven, the chicken carcass was in the scrap bin and the sink was full of hot, soapy water.

I pulled continue reading …