My Sister Called to Say Mom Had Died, While Mom Was Standing Right Beside Me

a letter arrived with a prison stamp.

Dominique’s handwriting was unmistakable. Sharp. Demanding. Familiar.

Amara,
This place is awful. The food is disgusting. I need money for the commissary. You owe me after what you did. Send $500.
— D

Mama watched as I folded the letter once. Then again.

“Is it important?” she asked.

I walked to the fireplace and dropped continue reading …