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

light.

Clara was sitting on the top step of the porch, her knees pulled up to her chest inside her oversized gray sweater.

She had a thick, black leather book resting on her lap, and she looked up with a small smile as I walked up the concrete path.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice soft and a little tired from the long weekend.

“Just continue reading …