queen anne's lace and a toblerone

a short story about biking down a hill, spending your first money, and the swiftness of death

When my dad died, my wife Rachel and I drove down Route 7 south along the Vermont side of the Vermont-New York border from Burlington, as we always did when we went to visit my parents.

It’s a route that no GPS or smartphone map would ever direct you to take, but we took it anyway. It keeps you in Vermont for longer before crossing into New York, and yo…