My Mother Locked the Gate on Me

house.

The same gate.

The same camera.

The sky had cleared, but the pavement still held dark patches where rainwater sat in cracks.

I pressed the intercom.

My mother appeared on the screen.

No polite frown this time.

No saleswoman voice.

Just my mother, looking like she hadn’t slept.

“Arden,” she said.

The gate began to open before I answered.

I watched it slide continue reading …