A Four-Dollar Worn Shawl to Wear to Belle Meade
“Thursday’s perfect,” I said.
He pushed off the counter.
He came over and gave me a quick hug.
He smelled of cedar and drafting paper.
“See you Thursday,” Ethan said.
He went back out to the driveway.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched his car vanish down the long dirt road.
I listened to the old house creak and settle in the quiet afternoon.