Return to Sender
by Gord Deyo
The letter was folded into quarters, wrapped in a strip of wax paper, and tucked between two blocks of ice at the bottom of the crate like it had been hidden by someone who understood cold.
Marta almost didn’t see it. She was moving fast. It was nearly eleven, her hands were numb, and the fish smell had long since moved past her nose and into the back of her skull where it lived now, permanent as a squatter. She stacked the empty crates against the back wall of the stall, the way she did every […]
