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

to empty because Biscuit had eaten something he shouldn’t have and I couldn’t not treat him, not with Lily watching, not with Lily already attached to that ceramic bowl on top of the refrigerator.

Then I brought out the last page.

It was a letter. I had written it myself, at that same kitchen table, after Lily was asleep. It was not angry. I had written continue reading …