Kay Honeyman

Don't you have something teenagery to do -- rage against authority, roll your eyes, mooch off your parents?

Auntie Wu took special pride in two of her accomplishments--the sons she bore and the flowers she grew. They were equally useless, but the flowers smelled better.

I could feel the beginning of the story gathering in her throat. Stories are that way, like storms. If you pay attention, you can sense them in the air.