Karen Gordon

No. You. Don't.

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. My cousin Joel and I saw it the first night of July from the platform we called our treehouse. built high into the ancient oak that stood sentinel on the family farm. We’d asked Grandma Kenzie about it and offered to go check it out but she waved us off. “No need, child,” she’d said, pulling another tray of sugar cookies out of the oven. “Most like a young couple lookin’ out for some privacy up’n the old sugar shack. You best leave ‘em be.”