Forty-One Thousand Dollars and a Yellow Paper Envelope
My wife’s birthday is the sixth, so I remember the fifth.”
“So?”
“So the notice in the paper said he passed on September twelfth.
And Brenda told my wife he hadn’t left his room since August.
I heard that at the church supper.
Twice.”
I rubbed my right wrist under the table.
The receipt sat in the light, the faded blue ink rubbed away at one corner.