Donna said, her own voice showing dreamy. ‘She used to take coffee with us here regularly, Muriel did,’ Miz. Tracy said. ‘Don’t know why she s...opped, though. She hasn’t been around in a while. Maybe it’s her husband. He plays the sax. Used to work in the clubs downtown—some of those drag queen clubs, I think. He’s been gone for a while, though. I heard he went to Memphis or something.’ ‘She’s looking ill,’ Miz. Olive said, and the other heads at the clutch of café tables in the middle swung. Corrin washed, then dressed herself in warm, dark clothes and made her way across the rutted track to AnnaLee's house. She carried a freshly baked apple pie that she set down on the porch in roughly the spot that the previous pie had occupied. This time she wanted AnnaLee to see who left the pie but not be able to ask her why. The porch was old and the weathered wooden boards creaked as she got closer to the furthest window to peek inside. Her heartbeat raced as she caught sight of AnnaLee. More

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