I pulled open the deep bottom drawer where Mark kept our house files and tax records neatly sorted in manila folders.

Behind a yellow envelope marked Property Taxes was a printed airline receipt on crisp white printer paper.

It was a confirmation for two nonrefundable coach tickets from Columbus to Miami, booked four days earlier.

The departure was set for Thursday morning at seven thirty, with a return flight on Sunday evening at eight.

The total on the page was four hundred eighteen dollars, charged to a card ending in 4921.

Mark had kissed my cheek at six thirty that morning and carried his suit bag and leather briefcase out to his car in the driveway.