The Magnolia's Shadow
The old magnolia tree cast a long shadow across Eleanor’s porch, its gnarled branches reaching out like arthritic fingers. She rocked gently in her wicker chair, sipping sweet tea and watching the neighborhood children play in the fading summer light. Their laughter carried on the warm breeze, a bittersweet reminder of days long past. Eleanor’s weathered hands trembled slightly as she set down her glass. At eighty-seven, her body was failing her, but her mind remained sharp as ever. Perhaps too sharp, she thought ruefully. Some memories were best left to fade. ...