Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
“These are the divorce papers,” I said, handing the unsigned packet to him.
He took them, his fingers clutching the white paper as if it were a life raft.
“Emma and Ben,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
“What are we going to tell them?”
“I have already texted the digital copies of everything in that folder to both of them,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes.
“They know exactly what you tried to do to their mother.”
David’s composure shattered, his jaw tightening as he looked down at the divorce papers in his hand.
The sound of my heels clicking firmly across the hardwood floor as I left him alone with the bill.
The glass doors of the Oak Creek Courthouse did not keep out the morning chill, but the heat inside the lobby was thick and smelled of wet wool.
Ben stood near the security metal detector with his arms folded tightly across his chest, his eyes scanning the crowd of people shaking off their umbrellas.
Emma was right beside him, her small fingers twisting a lock of her brown hair around and around until the tip turned red.
