Harlan Covington

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

– I won’t let you do this, Margaret! Not without my corpse blocking the way! – my mother bellowed, stepping

Diary Entry, 10th April I still love him. He—loved my best friend. Margaret Whitcombe stood by the window