Claimed By My Best Friend’s Daddy
And to every shared memory I had with him in the house.
During my lunch break I retreated to a quiet corner of the library café, a tucked-away table half-hidden by a tall potted fern. I ordered a simple turkey sandwich and black coffee, then sat with my notebook open in front of me, pretending to outline my literature paper. Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out the gold-foil bookmark. The metal was cool against my fingertips. I traced the engraved words slowly, a small, secret smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite everything.