Six Years of Sundays

For Bailey Mitchell, Sundays are the one day the store doesn't own—a brief truce before another week of the retail job she fell into after leaving college. What began as temporary became a six-year sentence: a boyfriend who redecorates her confidence one quiet remark at a time, a bottle in its hiding place, and a journal holding the only version of herself she still recognizes.

Then her body files its own complaint, and Bailey stops negotiating.

What follows isn't self-discovery. It's self-reclamation—the dismantling of a life she settled for, from the quiet of the mountains to the Florida shoreline to the quiet of the mountains. Six Years of Sundays is about the question that keeps a person small—What do you need from me, and will you stay if I do it? —and what happens the day it finally reverses.