as ash. “And mine?”
Megan sauntered into the foyer, swinging her new keys with deliberate provocation. “Don’t be jealous, Anna. It’s not a good look. Maybe if you’d picked a better career, you could afford nice things too. But you chose to play piano for six-year-olds, so here we are.”
I looked at my parents, at my sister, at the casual cruelty they continue reading …
