The Morning After My Son’s Funeral An Airport Worker Called About The Bag He Left Behind

panes of glass, and I smiled. Small. Pleasant. Entirely genuine.

She could not have known the smile was not confusion or courtesy. It was the expression of a man who had just moved his most important pieces off the board before his opponent could reach them.

That night around eleven, the power in the garage went out. Not the house. Just the garage. The continue reading …