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

soup from the cafeteria next door. I found a blue vinyl bench near the revolving doors and sat down, my purse clutched against my stomach like a shield.

Through the glass, I watched the autumn leaves scrape across the concrete entrance, dry and brown.

The yellow tax notices on my kitchen table back home seemed very far away, but the continue reading …