how to say to my face.
That night we sat in the living room together. The same recliner. The same lamp. The same low hum of the television. I told him I had found the notebook. He did not look at me right away. Just nodded slightly, as if he had been expecting that. “Didn’t want you scrambling,” he muttered. I swallowed. “You wrote ‘tell him I’m proud continue reading …
