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

kitchen light.

By nine o’clock the next morning, I was sitting across from Diane in her office, watching her fountain pen hover over a blank pad of paper.

I laid the blue airline confirmation slip on the polished wood of her desk, right beside the red-inked collection notice that had spent the night on my kitchen table.

Diane did not continue reading …