Pinky Swear
Sharon Pape“I thought you were going to stand me up,” Margaret said with an edge of pique.
Jean laughed and settled into her chair at the bridge table that held the old Scrabble board. The seam where the board folded was as loose as the binding on a well-loved book, but they’d never considered replacing it. “Don’t be silly. I’ve never stood you up in all of our eighty-seven years. For what possible reason would I start now?”
Margaret sighed. “I guess I’m just in a mood.” She opened the worn velvet pouch and let the tiles fall onto the table with a soft click-clack.
“Is today the twenty-second?” Jean asked with sudden clarity. The tears that welled up in her sister’s eyes told her it was. “I’m sorry, Maggie, lately the days seem to run together. How old would Roger be now?”
