My Childhood Sweetheart Asked Me to Sign a Special Folder in Room Four Hundred Seven

out into the hallway.

The heavy wood door clicked shut, leaving only the smell of fresh pineapple and industrial floor bleach in the air.

Ben leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the green cellophane wrapping.

“Look at that,” Ben said, reaching out to tear a small hole in the plastic wrap to pluck a grape from the stem. “They continue reading …