After My Father’s

message.

There it was.

The hook.

Miles never attacked directly if curiosity could do the work for him.

I set the phone facedown.

Five seconds later, it buzzed again.

Ask Nora about the accident in 1998.

My breath caught.

I was eight years old in 1998.

That was the year my mother stopped driving for six months. The year Dad slept in the guest room. The year continue reading …