Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

were a delicate glass ornament that was starting to crack under the weight of the years.

“I think I should go home,” I said, pushing my chair back from the mahogany table.

Diana did not try to stop me, only offering a soft sigh as she began to gather the coffee cups.

I walked out to the driveway at a quarter past eight, the cool evening continue reading …