The Memory in the Fur

The lunchroom smelled faintly of chamomile tea and soft rolls warming in the kitchen oven. Light filtered through gauzy curtains, painting the scuffed linoleum floor in honey colored streaks. The old radiators ticked with heat, a rhythmic hush beneath the occasional squeak of a wheelchair or cough swallowed into a handkerchief. Betty sat alone by… Continue reading The Memory in the Fur