traffic moved just slightly, and Edward Steinbeck stepped on the gas slowly, inching up just a few spaces.

“What – you don’t like them?” Edward asked, almost annoyed. “I’m not getting off this highway, Martha. Just look at this traffic.”

“No I don’t mean that,” Martha said, sighing just a bit. “They’re all right, I guess.”

He looked over the photos in her lap. Some of them were from a recent family reunion they’d had upstate just last year. It reminded him of the reason he had picked up his wife early today. It was almost Thanksgiving, and she would be off for the holiday for a few days. Edwards’s mouth began to water as he thought of the delicious food his wife would be cooking soon. He looked at her, thinking ho...

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