In October, My Husband Left a Manila Envelope on Our Kitchen Table and Walked Out Into the Rain

Lynn carried my suitcase up, and I stood in the kitchen with my purse still on my shoulder.

The salt shaker sat in the middle of the table where it had sat since October.

Someone had lined it up with the seam in the tabletop, the way Greg used to.

We ate Lynn’s casserole standing at the counter.

“This is the same dish I brought you in October,” she said.

“I froze half.

Waste not.”

It tasted like the inside of a freezer, and I ate all of it.