At 82, I Found

do not end just because a man leaves the room.

The next morning, Peter came by.

Peter Holloway was fifty-three, broad-shouldered, sunburned, and built like a man who had spent his life carrying shingles up ladders. He found Frank in the garage sorting old paint cans.

“Diane called me,” he said.

Frank groaned. “Of course she did.”

“She’s upset.”

“She invaded continue reading …