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

corridor, the distinct squeak of rubber-soled shoes echoed against the linoleum, growing louder as someone approached Room Four Hundred Seven.

My fingers shook so hard the thin manila folder slipped, scraping against the metal bed frame.

The rubber soles of the nursing staff squeaked down the hallway outside Room 407.

Ben had already continue reading …