and open the front door.
Mom and Dad on the porch in their winter coats. Dad is holding a bottle of orange juice like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Mom has a tin of homemade shortbread — her recipe, the one she used to make for every school event of Monica’s, and none of mine.
“Hi,” Mom says. Nervous. Hopeful.
“Come in. Coffee’s almost ready.continue reading …
