Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

of Brenda’s voice downstairs, followed by Greg’s low rumble. They were still in the kitchen, talking in quiet, urgent tones.

I stared at my white, freezing feet under the thin bedsheets.

The next morning was too quiet, so I took the bus downtown to clear my head.

The Canton Public Library was warm, smelling of damp wool coats and old books. I walked past continue reading …