At 18 My Dad Told Me to Leave and Gave My Room to My Sister

cold air. Just cold air. Twenty-six degrees outside. Forty-two dollars in my pocket.

And that was that.

The first night I parked in the Walmart lot on Route 35, under those sickly buzzing parking lot lights that make everything look washed out and yellow. I turned off the engine to save gas and pulled the one spare hoodie I’d packed across my legs like continue reading …