Footsteps up the driveway, hours too early. Clinking of keys on the hook, coins in the can, wallet on the counter.
All tagged bad news
Footsteps up the driveway, hours too early. Clinking of keys on the hook, coins in the can, wallet on the counter.
I lay on the narrow table, left arm bent over my head, hospital gown open to expose my left side. The biopsy was over.
Only three people had the number: One never called, one was dying, and the last was my Aunt Sandra. When it rang that August morning, I stood and watched it.