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

An inch apart on the rug.

“Nine in the morning,” I said.

“Three days out.”

Lynn looked through the window at the porch light.

“Three days to find a lawyer who’ll take this on no notice.”

At ten to nine my phone lit up on the floor, face up, and the name on the screen was Denise Vance.

I answered it.

“Claire.