Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

the wood last winter.

He had always hated this house, even as a teenager when he complained about the drafty windows and the squeaking floorboards.

“There are things that are simply beyond your control now,” Nicole called up from the gravel driveway.

She was wearing her gray wool coat, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her large leather purse.

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