My Husband Told Me Never To Go To The House At Blue Heron Ridge Until Three Years Later

against the steering wheel and breathed through it.

Then I got out of the car.

The driveway gravel shifted under my shoes as I walked toward the house, and the sound of it was the only evidence that I was moving. Everything else felt suspended, the way air feels before a storm, charged with potential, holding its breath. Up close, the stone walls were continue reading …