Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

only sound in the dark hallway.

By ten the next morning, the yellowing leaves of the silver maple scraped against the den window as I ran my feather duster along the top shelf of the bookcase.

Arthur sat three feet away in his brown leather recliner, staring at a televised fishing program with the volume muted.

He had not spoken since breakfast, and the continue reading …