Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell

It hadn’t been there when I’d left for the hardware store.

Under a grocery store flyer were three final-notice utility bills addressed to the estate.

The envelope on top of the whole pile was thick and bright white.

The return address was a local commercial bank in town.

The front of the envelope was addressed to me and only me.

Not to my father, and not to Glenn.

I picked it up and ran my thumb across the heavy embossed seal on the flap.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the hardwood in the hall.