It was perfect. Straw, with tiny handmade wicker vegetables tethered to the brim by whispers of yellow ribbon. It had been a vintage store find on the way home from the gym, back when Devon had gone ... [+]

The postcard was that old aerial view of the place, canola in bloom, the farm small as a doll’s. Danny’s crazy scrawl. Come back. No love, no please, no nothing. I’d been gone for half my life ... [+]