I was chopping vegetables when my four-year-old daughter

shoe lies by the hallway closet.

Diane stands in the middle of the living room.

The shoebox is in her hands.

She is not wearing her fragile expression anymore.

She looks calm.

Too calm.

“Put the box down,” the officer says.

Diane smiles.

“You people love drama.”

Andrew’s voice breaks.

“Mom, what did you do?”

She looks at him with something like disgust.

“I tried continue reading …