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

quiet of the yard.

I set the mug down on the glass table, my fingers tracing the circular stain it left on the coaster. The kitchen clock chimed once in the distance, reminding me that the morning was moving forward.

I stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, looking out at the gravel driveway where Ben’s old blue truck used to continue reading …