She Walked Out, and Ten Years Later She Showed Up With Expensive Gifts at a Twelfth Birthday Dinner
Her voice sank low beneath the loud whine of the key-cutting machine in the back corner.
“Never,” I said.
“Not a postcard?
Not a word passed through anybody in town?”
“Not one word,” I said.
“And I don’t go hunting for one.”
“You ever wonder where she ended up?” Sarah asked, studying me over her cup.
“No,” I said.