I Couldn’t Remember Hearing Anyone Come Back Upstairs

me laugh. A short, ugly laugh.

He nodded. “Exactly.”

We stood there for a second, the dishwasher humming, Mom singing badly to the radio in the other room.

Then he reached over and flicked the new pepper spray keychain with one finger so it spun on the counter.

Bright orange.

Impossible to miss.

If this one stayed with you, send it to someone else. You never continue reading …