My Mother

covered the fridge. Unicorns. Rainbows. A crooked picture of our family holding hands.

For months, that video had been proof. Protection. A weapon we never wanted but needed.

Now copies were with the court, the prosecutor, our attorney. We did not need it on Daniel’s phone anymore.

“Delete that copy,” I said.

He nodded.

His thumb hovered, then pressed.

Gone.continue reading …