She holds up her hand to the bathroom window, feels cold air piercing. Early morning, still dark, the children asleep. She unspools a strip of foam, one-handed. At her feet, a diagram displayed on her mobile phone. Using a screwdriver, she pries off ragged remnants of the original weather-stripping. When she stretches to reach the top rail, her ribs ache.
Continue reading “Safe House by Alain Kerfs”
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