Six Vintage Dresses Left in a Cedar Trunk on Oak Street

the overhead fluorescent light buzzing with a high, irritating hum.

The kettle on the stove began to whistle, a low sound that grew into a shrill spike before I slid it off the burner.

I poured the hot water over a single tea bag in a brown ceramic mug, watching the dark liquid rise to the brim.

The house was entirely silent now, the kind of quiet that continue reading …