A three AM phone call about a locked room changed everything

breath, her shoulders rising and then falling against the wood.

“We were just names on his list,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

I reached out and took her hand, the skin of her palm dry and slightly rough from the packing tape.

We sat there in the quiet kitchen for a long time, the blue coffee mugs cooling on the floor between us as the room grew dark.

At six continue reading …