Three Decades of Pretending Come to an End in a Military Holding Cell
“I only need you to meet me tomorrow morning and sign them,” I said.
“Bring them by the hardware store,” Glenn said.
“My car’s got a cracked radiator hose,” I said.
“I’m not driving it all the way out to the highway.
You can come to the motel.”
“Nine o’clock tomorrow,” Glenn said.
“Have the papers ready, or I walk.”
The line went dead, leaving me listening to empty air.
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