“Damn, where the hell did I put that letter?” Olivia muttered.
Rummaging through discarded bills, take-out menus, and an impotent army of out-of-ink pens, Liv pulled a stack of papers out of the drawer.
It plummeted to the floor, a small, white flutter, tumbling to the tile. Seeing it, her heart did its own swan-dive, fluttering to a stop at her feet.
A ticket stub. “Holiday” with Hepburn and Grant at the old art-house theater. She and Alex had gone to see it a few months before the world did its Humpty-Dumpty impression, and all the King's men had whisked Alex away.
She held it now, lost dreams and new-found grief stamped on a two inch piece of cardboard.