Fiction | July 22, 2013

“It says that the porch we’re sitting on is one eighth of a mile long.” Gordon gave the inn’s brochure a little wave but didn’t pass it to his wife, even though Dora was holding out her hand. “That’s about the length of porch of the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island,” he said. He’d always admired porchesthe Old French word Porche.

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