Debonair in Disguise
By Thomas Grant Bruso
The Hanville Daily arrived a few minutes after 5:30 A.M. on Monday. I sat down at the kitchen table to read it. I was already working through my second cup of black coffee, waking early to the chirping sounds of robins flitting in the surrounding trees outside our bedroom window.
The headlines brought silent screams and concerns to my sleepy spirits: fires, tsunamis, war, disease, and an alarming threat of an unending virus raging on in other parts of the world, mainly in metropolitan areas.
Nestled safely in a quiet corner in upstate New York, I settled in with the comforting stillness and ambiance of our new home. My boyfriend, Brandon, was still asleep in the bedroom down the hall.
The stark white light above the stove illuminated the page
