I rinsed the pot and set it upside down in the drying rack.

The morning light slid across the counter and reached the edge of the folded sentencing order.

The hardware store on Mill Street smelled of sawdust and rubber boots.

Chloe walked in front of me down aisle four with her coat zipped all the way to her chin.

The nightlights sat in a plastic bin under a sign reading Safety and Comfort.

She lifted out a little yellow acorn with a plug on the back and held it in both hands.