Autumn again and we’re both in our own corners of elsewhere. I wonder if you sit by the window, too. I wonder, of all
I am cousin to the sun, a hired cure for darkness. My fingers busy as rain. In my palms I hold an invisible, melancholy
Forgive my forwardness, but I wanted to warn you I’ll be coming to live with you. I want you to be prepared. When you
When he met her, she was called Edith, happiness, but whatever joy had been at her naming was long gone. He sometimes called her