I drove to my late wife’s mountain house to say goodbye to the life we had lost. Instead, I found two abandoned twin girls standing on the porch,

rose around me, and the second was two little girls watching me like I had arrived to decide whether they were allowed to survive. They stood barefoot on the porch of my dead wife’s mountain house, gripping stale bread in blue, trembling hands.

I shut off the engine and stepped into the wind.

“Where are your shoes?”

The twins looked seven, maybe eight.continue reading …