A House With Good Bones

by T. Kingfisher

There was a vulture on the mailbox of my grandmother’s house. As omens go, it doesn’t get much more obvious than that.

“Sam, I’m your mother. I know you. You crave rational explanations like I crave carbs.”

The problem with family is that they know where all the levers are that make you move. They’re usually the ones who installed the levers in the first place.

Strange, the powers you find sometimes, in a garden at the end of the road.