At My Father’s Ceremony They Said I Could Not Do Anything Right Until I Walked In And Smiled

on in the dark like a form of patience. I had driven this route so many times as a child that my body recognized each turn before my eyes confirmed it.

The house was dark when we got there.

Evelyn had taken her things. Not all of them, not a permanent departure, but enough to make the kitchen feel oddly unpopulated and the hallway seem wider than it continue reading …