not to interrupt too soon.
“Evelyn,” he said.
My name sounded different in his mouth.
Not owned.
Remembered.
“Daniel.”
For a moment, the room thinned.
I saw Newport rain on library windows. A summer party. My grandmother laughing too loudly in the next room. Daniel standing beside the bookshelves, asking me if I was happy, and me lying so badly that he looked continue reading …
