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

in the next room. I had not told David. I had not confronted Barbara. I had filed it in the compartment and told myself I was keeping the peace, which was what I always told myself, which had always been the lie I told myself to cover the less flattering truth, which was that I was afraid of what would happen if I stopped absorbing it.

Standing in that continue reading …