“Good morning, love. I guess it’s morning, though it’s hard to tell. It’s just too dark all the time now . . .”
Tag: Mark Budman
I was putting to bed my 11-month old granddaughter, the half of the twin team. . .
The strange woman at my door holds a knife and a fork. Her cutlery is sharp. She smells of raw oysters. A bag hangs over her shoulders . . .