Samuel Reed Kept an Old Wooden Bat Behind the Pantry Door for Twenty Years
The gray car turned around in the drive and went out toward the road.
I stood on the porch with the tool shed key in one hand and the letter in the other.
Then I folded the letter and put it inside my coat pocket.
The next morning at ten o’clock, I set two cardboard boxes of Claire’s clothes on the concrete step of Daniel’s house on Oak Ridge Drive.
Daniel opened the front door before I could step back toward my truck.
He wore a crisp blue shirt, adjusted his silk tie with one hand, and checked his gold wristwatch.
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