THE MAN IS HANGING FROM THE STAIRS AGAIN, which means it’s going to be another bad day.
I slide past him without looking in his direction. He’s just a shadow hanging off the stair rail, la la la, he doesn’t exist, nothing to worry about.
Instead I’m thinking about Mom.
Maybe she’ll come back today. Maybe this afternoon, when I’m home alone because Phil doesn’t get home until six, maybe I’ll finally hallucinate a knock at the door, and it’ll be her, finally, her—
Part of me just says I want to see my mom
. I want to talk to her, I...