My father texted me, ‘To us, you’re already dead,’ and I only replied,

slightly because she was nervous. The kitchen was small, warm, and full of plants. Nothing matched. Everything felt alive.

My phone buzzed just as we sat down.

A message from an unknown number.

Arthur.

Valerie, your mother is ill. Whatever happened, we raised you. Help us one last time.

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Isabel did not ask who it was.continue reading …