After My Father’s

First, I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel until my breathing slowed.

Then I called.

Nora was quiet for too long.

“What is my mother’s trust?” I asked.

Another silence.

Then:

“Come to the office.”

I laughed once, without humor. “Every time someone says that, my life gets worse.”

“I know.”

At her office, Nora placed a slim green folder on the table.

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