Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

felt larger and colder when I returned at one o’clock. The only sound was the low, rhythmic hum of our old refrigerator, a steady vibration that had filled the background of our marriage for fifteen years.

I brewed a cup of cinnamon tea, hoping the warm, spiced scent would drive the chill from the room, and sat at the table.

I cleared away the salt and continue reading …