Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

water glass, her eyes fixed on mine while she took a slow, calculated sip.

By two o’clock, the wind had picked up, sending the yellow leaves of the sugar maple trees drifting across the grass in the backyard.

I walked down the porch steps to the flowerbeds, the cold brass of the back door handle still fresh in my palm.

Nicole followed continue reading …