I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name
It was a fair observation.
I didn’t like it.
We paid two dollars each and sat near the front of the bus.
Karen let the subject rest until we had almost reached the bank.
“Dad always was particular about papers,” she said.
“I remember.”
“He lined up every page before he signed.”
“He would line up his breakfast napkin if somebody gave him the chance.”