Our car lies half-overturned in the ditch. The smell of oil lingers in the night air. Will is crying, his small voice wracked by sobs. The sound pierces me. Do something, Penny. Get up. Move.
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The Flames of Romance
Well, it almost went swimmingly. Claire set up the blind date at Mon Cher last Saturday. I wore that light blue chiffon dress from our shopping trip last summer—remember?—and things were going so well...
Strong Spirits
“Grandma? Are you listening?”
Dorothy suppressed a sigh and put down her binoculars, turning away from the kitchen window to look at her granddaughter. She enjoyed Rachel’s visits, but today was not a good day for her to be here.
A Vermeer-Shaped Space
“You did what?” Margaret’s face was white as she stared at Joseph. She was sturdily built, with the powerful arms of a woman who had been a laundry maid for most of her life, but she looked unsteady now. “I just took it,” said Joseph, wearing the sheepish expression that always reminded Margaret of her… Continue reading A Vermeer-Shaped Space
Georgia Atkin 