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

one with the open lid was the second from the end. I could smell it before I reached it. Coffee grounds and wilted flowers and something sour underneath both.

I grabbed the edge and pulled myself up to look inside.

They were all there.

The photo frame for Uncle Tom, its corners caked with coffee grounds. The knitted scarf for cousin Sarah, tangled around continue reading …