Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

cardboard.

These were the records of my life, the only things Julian could not put a price on.

I picked up the second journal, my fingers tracing the worn leather spine.

If they forced me out, I would at least have these.

I packed the third book, then the fourth, the quiet room filled only with the dry sound of paper sliding against cardboard.continue reading …