Ken Confesses Serial 11

Milly and Ken sat on their old couch

like strangers.  Not like a couple married

48 years.  They were nervous.  They were unhappy.

Unfamiliar and familiar both.  After so many years

there was so much they didn’t know.  Milly was

a competent person.  A very good nurse.  Ken knew

his trucks and his roads inside out.  Ken took

the conversational initiative.  He didn’t often do that.

“I copied Joe’s credit card and I used it,” he said.

Joe was his boss.  They’d been friends the way men

can be they didn’t see one another out of work very

much still they’d been friends for years.  “Embezzlement,”

he said.  “That’s the word.”  “I know the word,” said Milly,

who read mysteries all the time.  What she liked when she read

was plot.  “Joe wasn’t the only one,” Ken said, as though

that fact were an afterthought.  “What in the world did

you do with the money?” Milly asked.  She somehow felt better

knowing what he’d done.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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