My Parents Doubled My Rent So My Unemployed Sister Could Move In, So I Moved Out and Took Everything

sat in his recliner by the window, the leather cracked and familiar, molded to his shape. Outside, twilight settled. Streetlights flickered on. Across the street, someone grilled dinner, smoke rising and smelling faintly sweet.

The rose garden George planted was dormant, bare stems and mulch and the promise of spring.

“They’ll bloom again,” he used to continue reading …