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

house, casting long, sharp shadows through the bare branches of the oak tree.

I walked out onto the porch before he could turn the engine off.

Donald rolled down the driver-side window, the smell of motor oil and old leather spilling out into the cold night air. He cleared his throat twice before he spoke.

“Beatrice said you came by the house today,” continue reading …