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

that held fifty years of tax returns and old flour invoices. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow circle over the worn linoleum floor.

Clara sat on the edge of the guest chair, her wool coat draped over her arm. She did not look at the desk or at the papers I had laid out. Her fingers patted her hair, smoothing down continue reading …