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

double doors. The cold air hit my face, clearing the smell of grease from my nose.

I did not wait for Brenda to follow me. I walked to the edge of the parking lot and signaled a passing taxi, my third ride of the day.

The driver took me back to Elm Street, the meter ticking up to fourteen dollars by the time we reached my gravel driveway. My purse was continue reading …