Autumn
“Um, hi,” I say. “Come in.”
I step back to usher them inside, hoping none of my neighbors are looking out the window right now.
Somehow, the three of them in the entryway makes the house feel even smaller. They’re so tall and beefy that it’s as if my house shrinks in proportion to them. I’m very aware of them glancing around the place, taking it all in.
My stomach flips again, wondering if they think it’s small or cheap, and I’m suddenly acutely conscious that it’s mostly decorated with stuff I found at thrift shops and the local buy/sell groups.
“I know it’s not much,” I say automatically. “But I bought it right after Raymond and I broke up and I had to get my own place. And now most of my money goes back into the bakery, so it’s…” I shrug and gesture. “It is what it is. So…
