The Envelope That Changed Everything

a red pen.

The first line I crossed out felt like a physical act, as if my arm were cutting through rope.

The ink bled slightly into the paper fibers. Michael’s name disappeared under a hard slash of red.

Then the next.

And the next.

Each mark was clean, decisive. Not angry scribbling. Not a child’s tantrum. A grown woman’s correction.

When I finished, I continue reading …