After My Father’s

faintly of cedar shavings, machine oil, and the peppermint candies he kept in a cut-glass bowl.

Miles had moved the bowl aside.

Divorce papers sat on the desk.

Beside them was a thick folder with blue tabs and a silver pen placed neatly across the top, like he had staged the scene for a photograph.

He looked up when I walked in.

“There you are,” he said.continue reading …