The Police Showed Up Before My Husband Could

steps, the blue ceramic one I’d bought with my sister in Asheville ten years earlier. It tipped, cracked clean down one side, and dumped wet dirt across the brick.

I called the police before the pot stopped rolling.

He heard me doing it through the speaker.

For the first time since this started, he looked scared.

Really scared.

He grabbed his carry-on and continue reading …