The house looked as if she'd brushed it over with a hurried hand. Things were open--drawers, cans, and closets. A pile of newspapers fanned out across the floor by the front door, and still I did not wonder. She must have dropped them as she ran, I thought. My mother was often late. But had I stopped to look, I would have seen the fear in the way the house had settled--a footstool that lay on its side, several books that had fallen from their shelves. When you count back, you can see a story from the end. I like that--the seemingly natural narrative that forms this way. With the end in my...
The house looked as if she'd brushed it over with a hurried hand. Things were open--drawers, cans, and closets. A pile of newspapers fanned out acr...
The house looked as if she'd brushed it over with a hurried hand. Things were open--drawers, cans, and closets. A pile of newspapers fanned out across the floor by the front door, and still I did not wonder. She must have dropped them as she ran, I thought. My mother was often late. But had I stopped to look, I would have seen the fear in the way the house had settled--a footstool that lay on its side, several books that had fallen from their shelves. When you count back, you can see a story from the end. I like that--the seemingly natural narrative that forms this way. With the end in my...
The house looked as if she'd brushed it over with a hurried hand. Things were open--drawers, cans, and closets. A pile of newspapers fanned out acr...
