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

cleared the scrambled eggs, two sausage links, and two pieces of dry white toast from his breakfast tray, leaving only a dark smear of grape jelly on the paper liner. He did not look like a man with only ninety days left to live, but then, he did not know I had spent the night awake in the visitor chair.

I held my book high enough to cover my chin, continue reading …