Clothes. Medication. My grandmother’s earrings. Work files. Tax returns. The framed photo of me and my aunt at Red Rocks. The mixer from the kitchen because I’d bought it before Daniel and I even met and I suddenly felt mean enough to care about that.
Good.
At 6:03, Ben handed me two sets of keys and said, “You want the old hardware left here?”
“No.”
He continue reading …
