Anthony
I woke up before the light hit the room, but the silence told me everything I needed to know. The world outside was buried.
Beside me, Myra was a curved line of heat under the heavy quilts. Her breathing was shallow, rhythmic, and for the first time since I’d seen her standing in the bakery doorway a week ago, she didn't look like she was preparing for a deposition. She looked like the girl who used to hide in the back of the bakery to help Dot frost sugar cookies—soft, reachable, and mine.
I didn't move. I didn't want to break the spell. My arm was draped over her waist, my hand resting just below the swell of her breast. I could feel the steady thud of her heart, and I knew—even if she hadn't admitted it yet—that last night wasn't "closure." It was an opening.
Then, she stirr
