At a Sunday service, parishioners greeted Sarah warmly but cast Michael sidelong glances. One woman leaned close, whispering, “She’s done her best all on her own. Don’t be too hard on her.” Michael’s blood boiled. Her best at what? Why did everyone else seem to know the story while he stood blind in it?
Sarah began taking long evening walks. When Michael offered to join, she refused quickly, saying she needed solitude. Once, he followed at a distance, heart racing. She carried a tote bag. He followed her a while longer and then gave up. When she came back, the bag was no longer with her.