They Laughed When Soda Was Dumped in My Lap. That Night, I Removed My Name From the Loan

need anyone’s permission or approval. The kind of peace that a twelve-year-old boy with a cup of soda couldn’t shatter, because it wasn’t built on their acceptance.

It was built on mine.

Sometimes, late at night, when the bakery is closed and the ovens are cool and Portland is quiet outside my window, I think about that silver picture frame—the one I continue reading …