A crappy grey day in February, 8 years ago
Sitting at my dining room table, staring at my quiet phone.
The floor and trim, ebony. Walls, an impersonal white. One side, an equally ebony oversized Goodwill china cabinet, filled with my everyday dishes, glasses. My small kitchen sucks. The other wall, covered in preschool artwork. The table itself, awash with crayons, paper, glue. They went to Dad’s house in the middle of craft time. I’ll pick that up later, I said two days ago. An ass-cold day, throwing sleet on the window. The useless overhead light casting a smoke-stained glow.
Nobody likes you.
Say it ain’t so! How could that be? what’s going on with her?
