By the time Mara Ellison reached the grocery store, the day had already taken everything she had.
The sky outside was the color of old aluminum—bright enough to glare, flat enough to feel heavy—and the parking lot shimmered like it was cooking. Mara sat for a moment in the driver’s seat of her ten-year-old sedan with both hands on the …
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
