Kate slouched to her bedroom, and Janice said she was going to clean one of the bathrooms and maybe the kitchen floor, too. With the avalanche of stress, the lack of sleep, continued red-line-level caffeine intake, Elizabeth’s heart races through a two-minute punk song of beats. She thinks about ...
It sounded like the saddest of sad songs with notes floating down the staircase and into the foyer like dead leaves; red, brown, and purple. I reached up over my head and covered our front door’s peephole with a finger, just in case someone was on the stoop trying to look in at us. I whispered th...