The Hidden Lines of the Family Land We Shared

fit a simple grid of squares.

I wound the tape back into its casing, my fingers cold against the metal.

There was a gap of twelve feet that simply didn’t make sense if the land was meant to be divided into equal pieces.

The wind blew a gust of cold air through the open barn doors, carrying the smell of old hay and dry rot.

I stood in the silence of the continue reading …