Terminal Four
I got down onto the floor.
Not gracefully.
I am forty-four and I was wearing a suit and I went down on one knee and then sat on the marble with my back against the same wall about four feet from her, which is the only sensible thing I did in the first hour.
I said, “Are they mine.”
And Evelyn said, “Yes.”
And then, before I could say anything else, she reached into a canvas tote bag and took out a bundle.
It was about an inch and a half thick and it was held together with two rubber bands, one at each end, and one of them had perished and left a mark on the top envelope.