"Take your needle, my child, and work at your pattern; it will come out a rose by and by. Life is like that… one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out all right like the embroidery.” —Oliver Wendell Holmes

Gasps and shouts, a hand on my arm, sequined gowns and expensive colognes parting before me. And then, there, Raymond’s crumpled form on the hardwood floor of the foyer, like a sleeve torn from a jacket, the stitches frayed and useless.

". . those incandescent secrets she would pepper in. The sister who ran away."