On the seventh floor, on the corner above the store, in a room with Him, sat Edmund Grimm.
Edmund was not a saint, nor a sinner. He barely went out. His laundry was picked up, his groceries delivered. There was little need for interaction with the world. He didn’t even own a television. Edmund’s apartment was a womb and, if there is innocence in a womb, then Edmund was surely innocent. [Read more…] about A Delivery of Fruit