Deborah Blocks Me On The Porch
Deborah pushed the screen door wide and planted herself in the frame. Her eyes swept past me to the driveway, where my trunk sat open with blankets and groceries inside.
She raised an arm and pointed, like a traffic cop, signaling that my things belonged back in the car. I said I needed to put away perishables.
She didn’t budge, one hand on the knob, the other gesturing toward the boxes I’d set by the steps.