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

is your water, Sarah,” Evelyn said, handing me a small plastic cup.

She did not look at Ben, who was busy flipping through a sports magazine on his tray table, his eyes scanning the pages without really reading them.

Her hand was unsteady, the water sloshing over the rim of the cup and wetting my knuckles.

I looked at her, trying to catch her eye, but continue reading …