For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

The same yellow paper from the diner fluttered loose from the open flap of his jacket.

It caught the afternoon breeze and landed on the dark asphalt near the rear tire of his sedan.

Mark didn’t notice it fall.

He unlocked his door, got in, and started the engine.

He put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot without checking his rearview mirror.

I stood alone in the parking space for a long time.

Then I walked over to the spot where his rear tire had been, bent down, and picked up the yellow paper.