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

the back of his neck. “That one was from you too. She’d mixed things around for the photos.”

I let out a short breath through my nose.

Of course she had.

At the bottom of the box sat something else. A paper star, one of the table decorations. Cheap cardstock. Bent at one point.

“I don’t know why I took that,” he said.

I did.

He took it because his father continue reading …