Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
He stood up, took the laundry basket, and walked toward the basement stairs. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I walked over to the table and picked up the cream-colored invitation. The elegant gold lettering of Olivia’s name seemed to mock the quiet of the empty room.
I walked to the desk in the corner of the living room, where the official RSVP card was tucked inside the envelope Vance had given me. There was a small box to check for acceptance and another for refusal.
I took Olivia’s favorite blue pen from the cup on the desk, the plastic warm against my fingers. I held the pen over the card for a long moment, watching the evening light fade across the rug.
I did not check either box. Instead, I slid the invitation into the middle drawer of the desk, beneath a stack of old utility bills, and shut the drawer firmly.
The legal document was already waiting on Arthur’s desk when I arrived at ten past two that afternoon.
