Three Sisters Divided Over a Limestone Bakery Built in Nineteen Sixty-Eight

sponge in the oven, and drove home to the quiet of my own house.

At six in the evening, I sat at my dining room table, the afternoon light fading into a dull grey outside the window.

I pulled the old handwritten family recipe book toward me, its leather cover worn soft at the corners where my mother’s hands had held it. I turned to continue reading …