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

they turned him toward the door. “You are going to watch it burn.”

I did not answer. I stood by the window, watching the autumn wind whip the dry oak leaves across the parking lot three floors below.

When the room was empty, I picked up my purse from the vinyl chair. The blank trust slip was still inside, folded twice, but the paper no longer felt heavy.continue reading …