Some day I would like a white picket fence. I don’t know entirely why they enchant me so. Propably something in the modern zeitgeist.


Why were you visiting this morning?” Ambrose asked.

“I had finished my newest muffin recipe and wanted to show it off. We are a bit competitive,” Mary sniffled into her tea. “Were . . . ”

“And when was the last time you saw her,” Ambrose continued, scratching notes in his little book.

Mary looked out the window, across the street to Ela’s house. “A couple days ago. I told her I was going to bring over this new recipe. She was excited to try it.”

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