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

at eight in the evening. A young woman in a yellow rain jacket sat in the corner booth, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She stood up when she saw me carrying the heavy box through the door.

“Are you Martha?” she asked, her voice bright and nervous.

“I am,” I said, setting the box on the bench opposite her.

She looked inside, her fingers tracing continue reading …