For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

I spent the rest of the afternoon stocking crates of winter squash in the front aisle.

Every time I set a heavy green squash on the wooden display rack, I saw Mark standing in the diner parking lot.

I locked the market’s front doors at six and drove home through the dark streets.

The house was completely dark except for the small square of the kitchen window.

I came in through the side door and took off my boots on the mat.

The kitchen smelled warm, like roasted potatoes and butter.