Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

road leading to the cabin was narrow, the wet gravel crunching loudly under my tires as I slowed to a stop near the rusted metal mailbox.

Arthur’s blue Buick was parked near the side porch under a lean-to, its windshield covered in a thin layer of fallen pine needles.

I saw a brief movement behind the small kitchen window of the cabin, a shadow passing continue reading …