At my graduation dinner, Dad slid my acceptance letter back across the table and said I would not be attending the seven-year BS/MD program I had earned a place in. – Welcome

small notebook.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Things I should have given someone years ago.”

Megan came out of the bedroom.

Mom couldn’t look at her.

She placed the notebook on the table.

It contained dates.

Some had one-word notes beside them.

**Door.**

**Car.**

**Money.**

**Bathroom.**

**Neck.**

**Wall.**

The old phones contained photographs.

Bruises.

A broken lamp.continue reading …