He Asked Me to Stop Talking About My Cancer

table sat a stack of poker chips, two coasters from O’Malley’s Bar & Grill, and a yellow legal pad with scores on it in Marcus’s handwriting.

He’d had people over.

While I was in the hospital.

A neighbor later filled in the rest. Mrs. Donnelly, because of course it was her, caught Allison by the mailbox the next day and said, in a voice halfway between continue reading …