About the work

She’d always hated Tuesdays, or at least the Tuesdays where the mailman arrived. He always brought news of bills, or worse, forms. This year, though, after everything with her brother, she found a strange satisfaction in the neat stacks of paper. It felt like a small victory to sort through them, to know she still could. The romance novels were a new addition, a concession to her granddaughter, but she hadn’t opened one yet. She just liked the bright covers next to the pale white. What she really needed was a better light.