The school called. “Your daughter hasn’t been pick…

game?” I asked.

“What game?”

“The who-are-you game.”

She giggled.

That nearly undid me more than anything so far had.

I swabbed her cheek while she sat cross-legged on the rug with crayons spread around her. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and swabbed my own.

I sealed the kit.

Walked to the blue mailbox on the corner.

Held it over the slot.

If I mailed continue reading …