The Distant Clue
The bread is still warm. You know this because you can see the steam rising from it, curling into the cold air of the pantry like a ghost refusing to leave the house. It is a simple loaf, white and unadorned, baked by the hands of your mother before she went to the front door to meet the men in their grey coats. She left it for you. She left it on the table, under a clean cloth, and she did not...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews