Chosen Every Single Day
“She knew everything,” Eleanor said.
That one took the floor out from under me.
I couldn’t take any more. I grabbed my jacket, left the keys and the envelope on the table, and walked out of that room like the walls were coming in.
I wandered for hours. Eventually I found myself sitting outside a roadside gas station, still in my wedding suit, watching trucks go by, wondering how many times a person can break in a single night.
By the time I got home at dawn, my mother — Linda Miller — was out feeding the chickens. She dropped the feed can the moment she saw my face.
“Travis,” she said softly. The fear was already there in her eyes.