sadder than I felt.
“You should have thought of that before you traded me in for her.”
At the door, he patted his pockets, searching.
“Your blood pressure pills, Walter,” I said.
“I don’t want you struggling, hon.”
He turned.
“They’re on the counter.”
For a second, shame crossed his face. Then he tucked the bottle into his pocket and left.
I waited until Marcy’s car pulled away before I took the bank card and put it in the cookie tin above the stove.
Then I washed my teacup by
