At A Restaurant Dinner, My Family Asked Me To Sign Something I Was Not Expecting

in soft fans of gold. The tablecloth was white and heavy and ironed to a finish so crisp it looked like it had never been touched.

My sister Brooke’s phone leaned against the small bud vase in the center of the table, its camera aimed at my chair, the tiny red dot glowing in the dim of the restaurant like an eye that didn’t blink.

My name is Ivy Callahan.continue reading …