I cut my stepdaughter’s late mom’s dresses

twist harder. She tells me to wait, that a doctor will speak to me shortly, and I hate those words immediately.

Wait.

I sit down, but I can’t stay still. My leg bounces uncontrollably, my hands clasp and unclasp, and my mind races through every possibility, none of them good. I think about the last time I saw him that morning, how quiet he was, how he continue reading …