My Sister Smirked Until I Said One Unit Number

Paperwork.”

My mother stepped in front of him then, chin up, eyes hard.

“What do you want?”

There it was too.

Not an apology. Not denial anymore. Terms.

I thought about the motel room. The cigarette carpet. My winter coats in boxes under truck fumes. The text.

Welcome home… guess you’re homeless now.

What did I want?

For a second, the ugly answer came first.continue reading …