A Four-Dollar Worn Shawl to Wear to Belle Meade
Vanessa.
I took my phone out.
The picture of the card was still there, the loops sharp against the cream paper.
I touched my collarbone and listened to the muffled voices behind the door.
At the far end of the hall the elevator chimed.
I didn’t turn around.
I turned from the frosted glass and walked to the elevator.
On the third floor the metal doors slid closed.