But the expiration date was yesterday.
She’d used it. Twice. It had saved them.
She crept closer. He wasn’t on the phone. He was talking to the empty yard, clutching a second pass—this one dog-eared, with the number HP-0001.
The design was absurdly official: a faded watermark of their wedding rings, a serial number (HP-0421), and the terms printed in crisp Helvetica: