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

his fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the stiff white sheet.

“The doctor said three months, Sarah,” Ben said, his voice dropping into that slow, reassuring drawl of his. “Maybe less if the treatment doesn’t take. We don’t have time to wait around for a big church wedding, kid.”

I reached out and straightened the bow tie, my fingers brushing the continue reading …