shelter had given him.
I wore my navy work dress.
When the clerk asked whether we had rings, Larry checked his empty pockets dramatically.
“Knew I forgot something.”
I laughed.
Eleven minutes later, I became his wife.
Exactly three weeks after that, I sat beside his bed in a state hospice facility and held his hand while his breathing slowly stopped.
And now his letter was telling me that the reason I had married him wasn’t entirely true.
I forced myself to keep reading.
“The liver failure was real. The
