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

mark on my skin.

I stood up to go back to the elevators, but my legs felt heavy, as if I were wading through wet sand.

When I got back to Room 407, the room was cold, the draft from the hallway blowing straight across the empty visitor chair.

Ben did not look up when the door opened.

He turned his back to me, his shoulders rigid under continue reading …