Renata’s Pink Blanket Led Me Back to the Letter My Parents Buried
Carmen pressed her lips together, then reached for the blue folder and turned to the back.
There were copies of forms, a typed summary, and a sheet bearing a date and a stamp.
None of them was a correction order.
“This is the copy we have always used,” she said.
“I didn’t ask which copy we used.
I asked where the order is.”
She closed the folder.
“Your father and I handled the arrangements.