Joyce

This was a place of comfort once.Enveloped in memories and ghosts, my days feel endless, short, repetitive. Time is slippery until Tuesdays—most Tuesdays, anyways. I've been called to the cabin to grieve a mother, a body, an ideal love. I've escaped for clarity, and the deep breath I can't take anywhere else.As I settle in, the unexpected finds me. It sneaks in through shattering glass and rustlin...