“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

wooden step-stool, clumsily but incredibly enthusiastically helping me knead a massive mound of homemade pizza dough. He reached across the island for the heavy salt shaker, his elbow catching the handle of a thick, heavy glass measuring cup.

It plummeted off the edge of the granite counter and shattered loudly, exploding into a thousand glittering continue reading …