Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

the living room before landing on me.

“I saw your car outside, Clara,” Donald said, stepping closer and handing me the soft blue wool. “I thought I’d save myself a trip tomorrow.”

The sweater still smelled faintly of Martha’s lavender soap, a sweet, familiar scent that made my chest ache.

“Thank you, Donald,” I said, holding the wool tightly against my continue reading …