Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

door, the latch clicking into place.

I climbed the stairs slowly, the wooden treads creaking under my slippers.

Arthur was already in bed, his reading glasses pushed up on his forehead as he turned the page of his magazine.

“Did you lock the back door?” he asked, looking up with that same warm smile he had worn at dinner.

“I did,” I said, sitting on the continue reading …