Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

hive logs from the south pasture,” I said, but he was already halfway out the door.

The sound of his truck engine cranking cut off my words before I could finish the sentence.

The local diner smelled of fried onions and old coffee, the booth seats patched with wide strips of silver duct tape.

Evelyn sat across from me, her green knitted continue reading …