At Eleven, She Moved In. At Six, I Changed The Locks.

clubs, his fishing gear, his old tax files, and six banker boxes of Madison’s childhood junk from the storage shelf onto the driveway under a tarp.

Not to ruin them.

Just to separate them.

His things. Her things. My things.

At the time, I wasn’t fully sure what I was preparing for. Only that I was done living in a house where everything blurred when it continue reading …