Michael Carter Pushed Me Toward a Fifty Million Dollar Funeral
A few hours, that’s all.”
“Will we be back before dark?”
“Of course.”
I looked toward the house.
The kitchen curtains were still open, and the grocery receipt remained beneath the magnet.
The place looked exactly as it had when I left it on other mornings, when I had gone to the pharmacy or the grocery store and expected to return to the same ordinary life.
Michael closed the trunk.