And bring the keys to your resolve. I hung up and looked around our hallway. Ring light, tripods, a box of gags, fake roaches, a plastic poop, two more mouse traps, an altar to cheap attention.
We’re leaving, I said. Gloria raised her brows. To that old witch in Oregon, she won’t take you in.
She just did. Carolina smirked. You’ll hate it.
No action, no content, no life. Who’s going to subscribe to your soba story? I looked at my sister and saw nothing living.
Only the cold ring light glow bouncing off a screen. Let silence subscribe to us, I said. I’ve been waiting for it.
We packed in 20 minutes. Sophia’s backpack, a folder of papers, a couple of shirts, a jacket. I took one photo.
Sophia on a swing laughing. Karolina behind her, no phone in her hand, real eyes, real smile. There was a time when laughter didn’t hurt.
Gloria blocked the door. “Don’t you dare take that child.” “I’m not leaving you,” I said.
I’m going toward us. Karolina shouted from the doorway. No one opened that door for you.
This is my house. The door? I said, I opened it myself.
