May You Live With What You Choose
“Long enough.”
Sydney rose too quickly and caught herself against the sofa. “You used my key?”
“You gave it to me.”
“That doesn’t mean you can come into my home and record private conversations.”
I looked at the sister whose wedding toast I had written only a week earlier. “I came to bring you a gift.” I set the velvet box on the glass coffee table.
It landed with a quiet finality.