I Was Uninvited From Christmas by the Man Living in My House

children you’re coming tomorrow.”

“To your house?”

“Yes.”

A beat.

“If you still want to.”

I almost said no.

Out of pride. Out of old hurt. Out of the simple pleasure of making people sit in what they’d made.

Then Molly came running over with a cookie in each hand.

“Uncle David, do rich people always live this high up?”

Patricia shut her eyes again.

I took one continue reading …