Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

her life from scratch.

“It feels like a betrayal,” I said, looking at the brick building across the asphalt.

“Staying is the betrayal,” Clara said. “To yourself.”

We got out of the car, the autumn wind rustling the dry leaves across the pavement. We walked into the office, where the air was thick with the scent of cheap vanilla candles and old paper. continue reading …