There’s a field behind her house that nobody goes near anymore. It’s overgrown and soft underfoot, wet even when it hasn’t rained. The cows were moved years ago, after one of them got stuck in a drain. The gate leans open now, as if no one ever meant to close it. She walks there every Sunday morning, just after her mother leaves for Mass. Her boots squelch through muck and … [Read more...] about Tea and cigarettes