I never told my wife about Margaret. Summer of 1962. We were 18. She worked at the ice cream shop on Lake Street.
Robert Halloran had not cried in eleven years, not since the morning they lowered Doris into the ground at Resurrection Cemetery, and he was not about to start in a …
I never told my wife about Margaret. Summer of 1962. We were 18. She worked at the ice cream shop on Lake Street. Read More