Evan Harris lives in East Hampton.
Theres a line. It forms down the center. Indicated by a strip of stiff red poly-nylon attached on wither end to two freestanding aluminum posts, the line forms down the center of the room.
Once upon a time in Aftermath, a moment cracked in half.
I first met Cinderella at a party exactly like this one, a number of seasons ago. The invitation had been slipped under my door in a red envelope with a note penned over the seal: Your secret is safe, it read, punctuated by a chipper little smiley face.
Once upon a time in Aftermath, a long line of daughters came to its end with the appearance of the last. Troubled or troubling; troubling or troubledeach and all of those girls had been one or the other or both.