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Mrs. Thomas Carter had spent all her adult life humming and busying herself around this three-bedroom home, keeping it pristine and peaceful, almost trapped in time. She maintained a schedule, written in careful black cursive in a small leather notebook she kept on her nightstand, of when to rotate the mattresses, when to wash the windows, when to restock the medicine cabinet, when to defrost the freezer. Nancy’s mother didn’t watch news programs or read the paper because she said it bothered her. Every Election Day, Nancy’s father wrote out the list of candidates that Nancy’s mother should
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When I go, I hope it’s during professional development because the transition to death would feel so seamless?”
That there were more books in the world than he would ever have time to read was equal parts comforting and troubling.
