Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

paper ball seeming to burn a hole in my thoughts as I fetched my purse from the kitchen counter.

An hour later, I sat in Clara’s Buick sedan in the clinic parking lot, the heater blowing a dry, dusty warmth against my ankles.

Clara tapped her fingernails against the leather of her purse, her eyes fixed on the clinic’s automatic glass doors.

“He told me continue reading …