I Couldn’t Remember Hearing Anyone Come Back Upstairs

Drive-me-home-if-my-mom’s-late friends. I’d slept at her house before.

At least I thought I had.

Then a memory hit me so hard it almost made me sway.

Not her house.

Never her house.

Every birthday party, every movie night, every hangout that happened “at Melissa’s” had actually happened in her backyard, on the patio, in the garage rec room, at the neighborhood continue reading …