I pushed it the rest of the way.
There was a folder open on the desk.
One page had an address in Oregon. Another had a start date six weeks out.
And Then I Looked Up
His office looked half-erased.
Two of the bookshelves were completely bare. His books were in three banker’s boxes stacked against the wall.
The framed photo of Olive and me from the lake was wrapped in newspaper on the desk.
And the mug — the one Olive painted at one of those pottery places when she was five, with the crooked heart and the handle that doesn’t quite work — was already packed in a box with paper around it.
“Chelsea?”
I turned around.
Ben was standing in the doorway holding a paper coffee cup.
I looked at him. Then at the boxes. Then at him again.
“You accepted a job in Oregon?”
His face changed completely.
