Myrtle Coldron by Lina Hansen

“Keys, keys, where are the blasted—ah, there.” As usual, they’ve dropped to the bottom of my bag where they’ve gotten entangled in the soggy swimming costume. I fumble the key into the lock, throw open the door, and enter an L-shaped corridor filled with the homey smells of fried bacon, Clorox, and rose potpourri. Oh, … Continue reading Myrtle Coldron by Lina Hansen