My Husband Forced Me To Set The Table And Apologize Until The Doorbell Rang

Graham stared at the folder in front of him. “You kept records.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough.”

He looked up at me with something I could not quite read. Not guilt, not exactly. Something more like the expression of a man who has spent years operating under the assumption that a situation has no memory, and has just discovered it does.

“Because I continue reading …