There comes a time when a body just needs a little mayhem.
Honora fidgets.
This rocker is not, in actuality, anywhere near as comfortable as it looks.
In fact, after calculating in the mosquitoes, the decidedly un-comfy rocking chair, and the muggy heat, the only really enjoyable part of this stereotype is the sweet tea.
She takes hers to the cellar.
The comfort of the underground chill always wins.
Sprawled on the floor next to the drainpipe, she isn’t prepared for it.
“Who are you?”
Honora jumps approximately 4.6 feet.
The little girl just cocks her head.
Since when do good Southern families keep small children in cellars?
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