Magic and Mischief at the Wayside Hotel

“I was trying to make things easier for you, Josie.” Gloria sighed and everyone but her winced.

Gloria’s sighs scraped away at Josie’s confidence like a dull blade peeling the skin of a fruit. Every so often they pulled up a chunk of tender flesh and the wounds would weep for hours, sometimes days afterward.

Josie tried floating away from her body as she spoke, looking down at the group of figures huddled in the Beech Room at Amos’s daycare. Amos in his puffy yellow jacket and purple hat looked like a mushroom surrounded by a flock of adults in drab-colored coats.

“I’m sorry you were inconvenienced, Gloria, but it helps me,” Josie said, “and all of us at the center, when we are consistent with the pickup and drop-off protocol.”