Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document
My hand moved to the title.
“Where do I sign?”
He slid a sheet of paper across the desk and pointed to a line.
The notary stamp sat beside his elbow.
I signed Brenda Miller in blue ink.
Arthur took off his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped them on his tie.
“I can file the expedited petition this morning.
But I need you to hear me.
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