Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

” I asked.

“Three days,” she said.

I thanked her and walked out into the cool evening air, my legs feeling lighter than they had since the start of summer. Sarah was waiting for me in the parking lot, her station wagon idling near the curb.

“Did she find something?” Sarah asked, her window rolled down.

“My thyroid,” I said. “It is only continue reading …