My Dad Told Me To Pack My Things And Beg On The Streets On Thanksgiving Night

in which what matters most is the money, the car in the driveway, the number on the banking app, the silence in the living room when the screen was turned around.

But that was never the part that mattered to me.

What mattered was standing in my parents’ kitchen at twenty-four, eating ramen and teaching myself security protocols, and deciding that their continue reading …