Behind the Venue, My Husband Handed Me a Scrapbook Pulled From the Dumpster

the craft store, the kind with a slight texture that Emma had loved because, she said, it felt more special than the smooth kind. I could see from where I stood a small hand-drawn star in the corner.

My feet were moving before I had finished the thought.

The alley was cold and dim, the dumpsters standing in a row against the building’s exterior. The continue reading …