Dead As A Doornail

Georgia Drake, Just Folks

I unloaded my bags from the back of Olive’s light blue hatchback, waving at the happy pair as I headed down my walkway to the house, loaded with a rather embarrassingly impressive collection of acquisitions in shining plastic bags I’d make sure to reuse and or recycle as was the requirement of normal humans. It might have been apparent my present preoccupation with the sorting of such minor items indicated my current level of domesticity and acclimation to life with...