This month’s opening lines.
Here’s how June’s story begins. The rest is waiting in your mailbox.
The Last House on Honey Lane
The letterbox at the end of Honey Lane had been empty for so long that the bees had moved in, and nobody minded. Margaret minded even less than most — she rather liked the low gold hum of it on her morning walk, the way it made the whole gate feel like it was purring.
So when a single white envelope appeared inside it one Tuesday, addressed in a hand she didn’t know, she stood for a long moment before reaching in. The bees, for their part, simply made room.
