Three Bags of Cashews and a Dishonest Sister In Law at the Wedding

an inch.

“What do we do first?” she asked.

“We go to Miller’s Hardware,” I said.

The bell above the door at the hardware store gave a short, metallic ring as we walked into the smell of motor oil and fertilizer.

Jerry, a young man who had gone to school with Clara, was sweeping the center aisle near the plumbing supplies.

“Morning, Mrs. Miller,” Jerry said,continue reading …