My Son Called at Midnight About the Blanket His Wife Threw Away

back one edge, then another. Pressed my thumb into the lining where Robert and I had planned the pocket all those years ago, though the blanket itself was new. The hiding place wasn’t. I’d used the same method in christening gowns, winter coats, one very ugly pageant dress, and once a biker vest for a man named Tiny who paid in cash and never explained continue reading …