There Was No Seat for Me at the Luxury Restaurant. By Dessert, They Regretted It

calls could wait. My family, if they decided they wanted a version of this relationship that was honest and mutual rather than hierarchical and conditional, knew where to find me — in a bookstore on Alberta Street, above which a woman named Wanda lived in a small apartment with overcrowded bookshelves and a cat who considered himself the establishment’s continue reading …