The Major in the Kitchen — The Night Wendell Pruitt’s Story Fell Apart
She pressed a hand against her chest.
“I’m sixty-four years old, Josie.
I used to run my own bookkeeping business.
How did I let someone make me afraid of opening the mail?”
The most truthful answer I could give was also the gentlest.
“It happened gradually.
And tonight you told me.
That’s where we start.”