A Twenty-Dollar Bill Dropped Into the Dust Beside a Tennessee Highway
March ninth.
I got up and went to the tall office window.
The streetlamps outside threw long shadows across the trimmed front lawn.
The whole neighborhood was silent.
Megan had left for her sister’s place in Florida on March second.
I drove her to the airport myself.
She’d packed two small suitcases.
We didn’t say a word on the drive to the terminal.
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