My Son Brought

the room.

My mother watched him go, tears on her face.

When his door closed, she turned to me.

“I suppose I deserved that too.”

“Yes,” I said.

She gave a small, broken laugh.

Then she sank onto the couch as if her bones had finally become heavy.

I sat in the chair across from her.

Not beside her.

Across.

She noticed.

Good.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she said.continue reading …