Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

my thumb still rubbing the side of my hand.

By seven, the sun had dropped below the ridge of Georgia pines, leaving the kitchen in a long, quiet shadow.

The refrigerator hummed in the corner, the only sound in the small house.

I set Evelyn’s jar on the clean laminate counter, the amber liquid inside looking thin and pale under the single overhead light continue reading …