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

dropping even lower. “The original intake records from the first week of September. Every page is going into the industrial shredder in the basement before noon.”

“Why would they shred his charts if he is still a patient here?”

Evelyn did not answer, but her hand clamped onto my arm, her fingers surprisingly strong. “If those papers continue reading …