“He is sixty-five years old,” Clara said, her voice flat. “He knows how to take a pill. If he chooses to neglect his health to punish you, you cannot stop him.”
She stood up from the bench, her leather purse tucked firmly under her arm.
“Do not beg him to stay,” she said.
At two o’clock, the wind from the north began to rattle the dry oak continue reading …
