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

teenagers living next door to each other on Maple Street. There was no one else in the pews, just the empty rows of dark oak and the flickering red candle of the sanctuary lamp.

“Sign here, Sarah,” the chaplain said, sliding the white marriage certificate toward me on the edge of the altar.

My fingers were so unsteady the gold-plated continue reading …