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

at the back door made me startle, my fingernails tapping against the laminate counter before I could stop them. I walked over and opened it to find Greg standing on the small concrete stoop.

He was holding a cardboard basket of apple pastries from the local bakery and a small plastic bag from the hardware store.

“I was in the neighborhood, Martha,” he continue reading …