orders or bank balances.
“It’s when you realize,” she said, “that they can’t touch you anymore. Not your money. Not your time. Not your sense of who you are.”
I sat on the porch that evening watching the light leave the sky in layers.
This porch had seen things.
A thirteen-year-old with a suitcase and no plan. A thirty-year-old with a folder full of documents continue reading …