There we were dancingupstairs by the window wall Nicole and Casie and I, maybe when they were four and five, maybe to Dylan’s Hey Mr. Tambourine Man.
Read MorePerhaps it is the early morningbefore people wake and the empty house, save my sleeping wife who must rest for her work day, or this
Read MoreThe upended dresser, its drawerssplayed like the legs of a shot giraffe, lay for weeks spewing their contents, a symbol of her life's slipped-away order.
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