A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
I reached into the back corner where I had previously seen the blue folder with her academic certificates. My fingers found only the empty space between the cardboard dividers.
I pulled out the entire stack of papers, placing them on the desk under the lamp. I went through them one by one. There was our mortgage agreement, the gas bill from last winter, and Marcus’s old spelling tests from kindergarten.
The blue folder was gone.
I opened the middle drawer, shifting the boxes of paperclips and the old weekly planner with its cracked leather spine. I felt a growing sense of urgency, a sudden tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with my work at Mid-Valley Tech.
Had she discovered that I had been looking through her things? Or had she moved them to keep them safe from my curiosity?
I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the yard where the maple trees stood like tall shadows against the night sky. Without those certificates and her research drafts, the plan was dead before it had even begun.
