Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document
Her fingers found his ear and hung on.
“Baby, are you sick?”
“Only sleepy,” she said.
“Daddy gave me the sleepy medicine again since everyone was coming tomorrow.”
I didn’t answer.
I turned toward the hall with her held against me and the scrap of blue velvet still crushed in my fist.
Julian came down the stairs two steps at a time.
He was in his socks.