The Tangled Woods (Dark Corners Collection, #5)

by Emily Raboteau

Once she’d been radical; her Angela Davis/street/door knocker–earring vibe had appealed to his light-skinned insecurities so that having her at his side had authenticated his questionable blackness. That initial attraction felt flimsy to him now that they were middle-aged, altered by parenthood and property taxes. He felt hoodwinked, entrapped in a predictably bourgeois life, heading on a holiday that lacked imagination, wonder, and risk.

You have found the shadow moss, a deep baritone like Morgan Freeman’s repeated at odd intervals, sounding like the canned voice of God.