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

leaves. Beatrice, my oldest sister, stepped inside, her wool coat buttoned incorrectly so the hem hung crooked. She stood by the flour bins, her hands buried deep in her pockets, her shoulders hunched as she began to unbutton her wet coat.

I did not offer her a cup of coffee. I had spent two dollars on a warm cup of black coffee at continue reading …