Harlan Covington

Margaret carefully reached for the ripe apples on the branch. Her back ached as it always did, but she

Emma slammed her fist on the kitchen counter, sending ripples through her untouched tea. The china rattled

Margaret Thompson gently unfolded her daughter’s wedding dress from the wardrobe, tracing the ivory

Wednesday, October 18th – Leeds, England “Right then, my son-in-law’s off again?” Margaret Thompson bustled

**Home to the Son, Resentment to the Daughter** “Mary, what are you going on about? As if you’d

Dear diary, Last evening, Margaret, my mother-in-law, surprised me with her usual blend of praise and

March sun peeked through the curtains, casting warm beams on the freshly painted walls. Emily stood by

Anna was pacing the kitchen, her knuckles rapping nervously against the countertop. “Are you mad?

The mist lay thick over the river like a fine muslin curtain. Margaret Thompson sat on the porch steps

Simon was gone, and she only smiled. “God, I’m so sick of this!” Simon paced the kitchen