The Riddle of Sweet Water
Martha sat on her back porch, the familiar creak of the wooden swing matching the rhythm of her eighty-two years. In her hand, her granddaughter Chloe's new iPhone felt foreign and slick, like holding a smooth river stone.
Martha sat on her back porch, the familiar creak of the wooden swing matching the rhythm of her eighty-two years. In her hand, her granddaughter Chloe's new iPhone felt foreign and slick, like holding a smooth river stone.