Bikers Were Painting My Dead Mother’s House Pink At 4AM And I Didn’t Know Any Of Them

tomatoes from the garden. I pretend not to notice.

People drive past and stare at the house. A bright pink house in a row of beige and white. Some of them shake their heads. Some of them smile.

I smile every time I pull into the driveway. Every single time.

My mother wanted a pink house. She wanted rosebushes and a bench and a fixed doorbell and a kitchen continue reading …