by Betty Stanton Hands smelled of smoke long before the match was struck. We stacked the wood too high, and it swayed with the weight of grief. The fire took its time choosing which bones to touch. Ash gathered in our throats, and we swallowed without protest. Someone said the word sacrifice, but it tasted…
by Phyllis Carol Agins Five hours in the Mediterranean sun, and she’s not waiting for anything special. Not for finding lifetime love or even a quick affair after the end of her decades-long marriage. Hours walking and her feet hurt, even though she’s worn her sensible Birkies. She’s strolled through…