The attorney stood beside the empty hospital bed, one hand resting on the backpack strap.
« Sarah, » he said gently, « Thomas wasn’t who you thought he was. »
I had been married to Thomas for seven days.
I looked at the bed.
The pillow still held the dent of his head.
His peppermint tea sat untouched on the tray table.
The soda can pull tab he’d used as my wedding ring circled my finger, light as a joke and heavy as a vow.
« What truth? » I asked.
The pillow still held the dent of his head.
The attorney’s mouth trembled slightly.
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