Dad hu.mi.liated me in front of 30 people: “You weren’t important enough to be invited to your sister’s wedding.” – Welcome

booth at one of my favorite restaurants in downtown Tucson, staring at the same meal I ordered every year on my birthday.

For once, I wanted to eat it while it was still hot.

Then my personal phone vibrated against the table.

Fiona.

My older sister.

I watched her name flash across the screen three times before answering.

“Where are you?” she demanded.

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