Two Plane Tickets to Savannah and the Sixty Day Marriage Agreement

“This is humiliating,” he whispered, his right hand beginning to tremble.

“It does not have to be,” I said.

He turned back toward the warm kitchen, leaving the door open behind him. I followed him inside, setting the bag down by the refrigerator.

The sixty-day agreement lay on the oak table, next to a black ballpoint pen I had left there continue reading …