He Sneered At Me Until I Gave Him An Answer He Did Not Expect

The blue pitcher with the last of the autumn flowers stood on the counter, and beside it Claire’s sketchbook lay open to a page I had not seen yet, a drawing of the harbor where I had taken her photograph when she was twelve, the water and the sky rendered in charcoal with such attention that you could feel the cold coming off the page.

She had been continue reading …