“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

in the eye. “I’m going,” I said. “Good,” she snapped, already turning back to Bradley with that dry little social smile. “I’m so sorry. He’s been under a lot of pressure lately. I think he’s just… struggling.” Struggling. That was the word she used for me whenever she needed to translate my existence into something her friends could digest. I wasn’t continue reading …