A BLUE UMBRELLA SKY, by R.S. MorganSheriff Wayne was giving me a ride out of our nowhere Kentucky town, a week after my mother’s fiery death, when we saw that bumper sticker. “I saw that,” the bumper sticker read. There was also a five-letter word in a smaller font at the bottom of the bumper sticker we couldn’t make out. So, stuck at the Walmart red light and Wayne and I being curious types, he inched his police SUV closer.
Wayne’s also my fiancé. Been going together for ten years, since junior year in high school. Would have probably been married for nine years if not for one problem: I couldn’t stay in town and he couldn’t leave. Our love story, however, didn’t begin like a Taylor Swift song of a high school romance. He wasn’t the star quarterback. He was a so-so lineman. Big, the bigg
