Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

hid the box beneath a wool blanket I kept for winter emergencies.

The trunk lid clicked shut, sealing the shoes in the dark.

At eight o’clock that evening, the television was blaring a rerun of an old detective show Arthur had seen a dozen times. I went out to the garage, retrieved the box from the trunk of the Buick, and walked into the living room.continue reading …