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

mapped my own wrists, and when she plunged her fingers into the flour, she did not hesitate. She began to knead, her shoulders shifting the weight of the dough with a steady, rhythmic push that I had not been able to manage since the previous winter.

I watched her from the stool, my hands tucked into my apron pockets where they did not have to work.continue reading …