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

the bakery storage room was cold. Beatrice was stacking forty-pound paper bags of unbleached flour, her movements slow and deliberate. She stopped to polish her glasses with her apron hem, her eyes blinking in the dim light of the single overhead bulb.

I reached into my cardigan pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Inside was our mother’s antique continue reading …