The trailer is cold; chilled air enters through cracks and seeps from behind the aluminum trim of the windows. Butch lies face down on the couch in the corner of the room, snoring. He’s still wearing his mud and manure-caked boots. His sister, Gwendolyn, sits at the scarred wooden table in the center of the room chopping white powder. Sara sits next to her, her long legs stretching onto an empty chair. On the other side of the table is Layla. She watches Gwendolyn’s movements; her golden hair falls into her eyes. Before them is a rectangular mirror upon which … Continue reading Falling