a time, without fear.

Her eyes scan the room now, flooded with moonlight. The puzzle table is there, to her right, a half done puzzle scattered across its top. To her left the kitchen, still yellow in every way it can be. The yellow ceramic chicken napkin jar still sitting in the center of the formica table with it's four quilted yellow placemats. Bennett hiccups and settles her eyes on the couch. It is still pushed up under that big picture window. The curtains are drawn open, which tells Bennett that Gran died in the daytime. She feels a tear track itself down her cheek and drops her suitcase with a huff.

She walks to the couch now, like a lost thing, wanting to sit down in a place where Gran sat. To see a view that Gran saw. To cover herself with a blanket that Gran knit. S...

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