Rosin was a member of my writers’ group in Dublin—a woman in her forties, sturdy yet graceful, with auburn hair, a ready smile, and…
When Edward Longfellow turned sixty-six, he determined that four decades of slaving away in a dead-end job was more than he could take. The…
It started small, nearly innocent, and quite by accident, far from what it eventually became – a quicksand of lies and secrets. And once…
