I Took Back Everything They Called “Ours”

stitch line

Madison came over that night carrying the quilt in a black trash bag.

No sunglasses this time.

No attitude either, at least not at first.

“It’s ugly as hell,” she said, dropping the bag on my table. “I had it at the foot of my bed.”

I pulled the quilt out carefully.

Blue, faded thin in spots, hand-stitched. There was the cigarette burn Grandma continue reading …