Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

beneath my slippers were cold, a familiar chill that came with October in Oak Creek. The silence was absolute now that Nicole’s car had gone. I stood in the center of the parlor, letting my eyes adjust to the deep shadows cast by the tall windows.

I waited until two in the morning before I moved. The clock in the hallway struck two with a dull, brassy continue reading …