I Took Back Everything They Called “Ours”

room, over the couch and lamp and table and art and shelves, and what registered on her face wasn’t grief.

It was recognition.

She knew every object. Knew when I’d bought it. Knew what she’d said to get me to buy half of it.

Dad noticed the blue quilt folded over the chair.

He looked tired then. Older. Smaller somehow.

Mom didn’t sit.

“I don’t care what continue reading …