“Martin isn’t coming home, Emily. You have to let him go.” Emily is sitting on the couch, staring at her shoes. She’s waiting for her well intentioned cousins to leave. Her feet scrape against the carpet, wearing treads into its patterns.

“I brought some sugar candy, I know how much you like that.” The cousin places some on the table, ( Read more... )

            “Barty! Shoo!” Bartholomew ignores her, but moves off anyway, distracted by the fork that just clattered to the floor. Emily bends down and snatches the paper up, holding it close to her chest. She smoothes out the wrinkles, runs her eyes over the words and folds it neatly in two, slipping the epistle back into its yellowing envelop and ( Read more... )