I want to invite you to my office. It’s important.”
I didn’t even make it to a chair. I sat straight down on the kitchen floor like someone had cut the strings holding me up.
Charlotte.
I hadn’t heard her name in 30 years!
She wasn’t family or a neighbor in any official sense. But she was something else entirely.
She was the one adult who had ever looked at me as if I weren’t a problem to be solved or a burden to be ignored.
When I was a child, my world was all sharp edges and cold silences.
My mom, Erica, was caught in a revolving door of boyfriends who either left or stayed too long. My stepdad, Dave, treated yelling as if it were his second job.
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