Oscar is watching clothes in the washing machine’s round window. The rumble is a daily background white noise. He’s almost as transfixed by its turning as Tilly is by cartoons on the telly. Sometimes, I stare with him. Mostly, I… Continue Reading
Paul never liked the refrigerator. His husband had been the one who wanted stainless steel. “But fingerprints wipe right off this one,” he explained when Paul pointed to an eggshell model across the showroom. The refrigerator had drawers for everything… Continue Reading
The iron sat squarely in the middle of Sally’s table. She stared at it, forehead creasing, then dropped her groceries and ran around the house, checking windows and doors. No one else was there and things seemed as secure as… Continue Reading