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

clicking shut behind me.

Ben was propped up on three pillows, his breakfast tray still sitting on the rolling table with a half-eaten bowl of cold oatmeal.

He adjusted his crooked black bow tie, his thumb dragging across the silk fabric twice before he looked at me.

“You took your time, kid,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar,continue reading …