Triage

The text came in at 12:01 a.m., a little burst of light on the nightstand that yanked me out of a shallow, twitchy sleep.

You are just a glorified maid. Nobody loves you.

At first, half-awake and disoriented, I stared at the screen, the words blurring into nothing. My brain tried to turn them into spam, a misdial, a wrong number. But the name at continue reading …