La vida

**The Baklava That Broke a Family Curse** “In this house, we do not speak of my grandmother,”

I never imagined my old age would smell of antiseptic and lukewarm custard. Id pictured myself at seventy

We dont talk about my grandmother in this housewhispered Oliver, as if the wind itself might hear.

In the snowy woods of the Scottish Highlands, where the wind whistles through the pines and the nights

THE WOLVES WHO HOWLED AT THE MOON In the snow-laden forests of the Scottish Highlands, where the wind

The morning found us on a dusty road leading away from the village. In one hand, I held little Sophies

**The Quiet Observer: Little Emily and Her Fathers Mysterious Visitor** Little Emily stayed perfectly