Kez kicks at the crate and sends it into the empty street, kicks the one beside it, but it’s frozen to the snowy ground, a pain in her toe that brings new tears to her eyes, and at the same time an undignified skidding and slipping. She takes deep breaths as she settles her shawl on her shoulders...
As if it’s something that must remain secret, the locket she has worn for years beneath the buttons of her dress, an oval lump that anyone might notice, although no one ever has. Not even William, who gave it to her when they were first married, fastened it around her neck, touched the etched, tw...