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

his gaze drifting toward the small television bracket mounted on the wall.

“We can talk about the papers when you feel stronger,” I replied, keeping my voice soft.

“The clock is ticking, kid,” he said, and his drawl had a sharp edge beneath the warmth. “We do not have the luxury of waiting around.”

“Is it the bills?” I asked, placing my hand over his.continue reading …