Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

o’clock, the autumn light fading into a deep violet outside the parlor windows.

I opened the closet beneath the stairs, where the old wooden tackle box had sat undisturbed since Arthur passed away.

The brass latches were green with age, and the smell of dried lake moss and machine oil drifted up as I opened the lid.

Inside were rows of hand-tied fishing continue reading …