He Married Me Dying, Then His Lawyer Opened the Box

Not preserved like a museum. Kept, like bread in a tin. Like spare buttons in a coffee can.

In the hall closet hung one of Thomas’s jackets.

In the kitchen drawer were rubber bands, dull scissors, takeout menus, a church bulletin from April, and a package of peppermints already opened.

I sat at the table and laughed until I had to press my hand over my continue reading …