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

the blank forms sat in their protective blue cover.

“I need to think, Ben,” I said, reaching for my purse.

“There is nothing to think about,” he said, his voice sharp enough to make me step back toward the door. “Either you help me or you do not.”

I walked out of Room 407 because the air in there felt too thick to draw into my lungs.continue reading …