The bell above the bookstore door jingles, and I look up from the stack of poetry collections I’m arranging—only to freeze. There’s Adams, standing in the doorway, the afternoon sun streaming behind…
Read More
She laughs, shaking her head, but she leans into my touch, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re biased,” she says, but her eyes are bright, and I can see the way…
Read More
The first time I saw her, the sun was filtering through the oak trees above the vine-wrapped bench, and her black curly hair was catching the light like crushed obsidian. She was…
Read More
The sound of tiny paws tapping on the wooden porch woke us up—soft, eager, like someone couldn’t wait to start the day. Lila rolled over, laughing, and I pulled back the curtain…
Read More