a More

urn the ke

e windows. I waited until I heard Dante come home, until we had our silent, tens

thouse was submerged in the d

moved like a ghost back to the study,

k, inserted the key in

e a soft, almost

wer sli

ned finding another phone, love letters, m

ty. Inside, there was only a

ers. Its simplicity felt more ominou

g the dim light from the desk lamp, I tipped it

ded sheet of paper.

top read *NewYork-Pr

ine of text hit me with th

"Vasectomy Proced

ame: Dant

k. A loud ringing filled my

to keep reading,

the bottom of the page.

nths before we even be

d. The nights he'd hold me, whispering, "Let's try again." My own guilt and shame when month after

procedure, the anxious two-week wait after the implantation. And Dante, by

rmance. A meticulo

. He knew I could never get pre

more than life itself, was built on

lid from the chair onto the cold, hard f

ng I believed to be true,

mpty. Eventually, my gaze refocused on the pa

asty, almost frantic pencil

ar