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

in this room.”

I looked at Emma and asked her if she wanted to show everyone what she had made.

She hesitated. She looked at the stained, damp objects on the table with an expression that held grief and something else, something that was making up its mind. “They’re all dirty now,” she said.

“They’re perfect,” David said. “Just like you.”

Something shifted continue reading …