I married a stranger I met in a hospital waiting room so he wouldn’t die alone—after just one week of marriage, his lawyer handed me his backpack.

soda can, worked the pull tab loose with thin fingers, and slid it onto mine.

It was too big.

He laughed softly.

“We’ll pretend your finger is shy.”

For seven days, I was his wife.

“We’ll pretend your finger is shy.”

I signed forms.

Adjusted blankets.

Smuggled in better tea.

Sat beside him when pain made his breathing shallow.

Once, near the end, he opened his continue reading …