My mom disappeared when I was 12

in my throat. The old room seems to contract around me, the faded floral wallpaper pressing in on all sides. My grandma’s pale, wrinkled hand tightens around mine with surprising strength, her eyes wide and glassy with the weight of unsaid truths.

“What do you mean… taken?” I whisper.

She opens the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed with trembling continue reading …