the cognac

Eloise tried to think of something comforting, but not patronizing, to write back to Eve. She struggled to form a sentence that didn’t minimize the chaos of the morning. The beaker reached a rolling boil. She gave up and sent one emoji to Eve: 👍

The ghost of Addie Fletcher warned her though; home was only what you could fit in your pockets.

Was this actually going to go anywhere? Did he want it to?

It was the summer of 1993.

I'm not good with kids.

I don’t remember his name, but I do remember his words.