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

pretending to follow the black rows of print while watching him over the top of the page.

“My hands are just so shaky today, kid,” he said.

He let the heavy plastic spoon clatter against the edge of his oatmeal bowl, the sound sharp against the quiet of the morning. He adjusted the crooked black bow tie he insisted on wearing over his hospital gown, continue reading …