The Police Showed Up Before My Husband Could

edge.

The third bin was almost funny.

Beach towels.

Sunscreen.

A straw hat with the price tag still on it.

They’d planned a whole second adolescence and warehoused it in my garage.

In my garage.

When He Finally Came Home

He got back the next day.

Not triumphant. Not with Denise on his arm. Alone.

I knew because at 6:09 p.m. the doorbell rang, once, and then continue reading …