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

bitter sound. “What a lie I told myself.”

She turned to Emma. Her eyes were full.

“I found your memory book in the box your father brought back,” she said. “I read every page. Every story you wrote. You saw good things in me that I had completely forgotten were mine.”

Emma looked at her steadily. “I just wrote what I remembered,” she said. “Like when continue reading …