One Sentence Across the Table

Funny.

The college I’d left was asking me to help run part of the program now.

“Send me the details,” I said.

“You okay?” Dana asked.

I watched my reflection faint in the truck door. Coat half-buttoned. Green bean casserole in hand like some deranged holiday mascot.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am.”

When I hung up, the front door opened behind me.

Rebecca.

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