The Knock Came Before I Could Dial 911

the door.

“Emily Miller?”

I had never hated my own name before that second.

I put my finger to my lips and lifted Clara out of the bathroom, towel and all. She weighed nothing. Less than a laundry basket. Less than the trash bags I carried out of law offices at two in the morning.

The bathroom floor was slick under my socks, and I almost fell.

“Emily?” continue reading …