Where did you get that ring

say, “Don’t ever throw this away.”

I never asked why.

Maybe I should have.

A cold wind moved through the bus shelter, lifting a strand of my gray hair across my cheek. I opened the suitcase to find my sweater. Diane had packed for me, which meant she had packed badly. Two blouses. One pair of slacks. My Bible. A framed photo of Henry and me at Lake Erie.continue reading …