After discarding the shattered compact and placing folded laundry in the closet, I throw my favorite sweater coat over my yoga wear and pad downstairs in faux fur house slippers. The phantom d**g, which I believe was opium, leaves me unsteady and blurry-eyed. My entire being vibrates like spectral fibers dispersed from my being as I descend the stairs. Through the glass-paneled front entrance, the shovel wavers into view. Mitchell hadn’t brought it past the second set of doors into the foyer but placed it against the vestibule wall. Would Mom consider the entrance hall as inside the home?
Would Mom consider the entrance hall as inside the home?At the bottom of the stairs, I catch Stacy spilling the tea about a celebrity she worked with on a recent photoshoot. She scoffs at the online canc
