Crumbling Home“Honey, I’m home!” I yelled as I let my keys clank into the clay bowl.
A niece of mine had made it for me in art class. Oval, with a crisscross of indentions and six sticks that stuck out from the center, it was supposed to be a turtle lying on its back, with a hollow stomach to put something in it. It was really quite cute and original, at least once someone explained what it was supposed to be.
Marco still thought it was too kitschy… as did most other people who came to visit.
But I didn’t care.
I sighed. I couldn’t wait to see my husband. Today had been awful! Not just my confrontation with Hector – and I hated confrontations – but also the rest: Great-aunt Sophia Michaela had talked me into helping her neighbor with this knitting project, and then there was this tutor
