Grant looked at the chain peeking out from under my blouse.

“You’re still wearing that cheap trinket.

You should sell all his stuff and stop living in the past.”

The sentence struck me as strange.

In the three years we were together, he had pushed far too hard for me to get rid of Walter’s filing cabinet.

He said it took up space and kept me from starting over.

I never understood why a pile of old papers bothered him so much.

“Move, Grant.”