We’re watching a scary movie, but I’m not sure if I can keep from laughing. Without looking at me, he reaches his arms high over his head, yawns, and slowly lets one hand fall over my shoulder. It would be a cunning move… if he wasn’t 64 years old.
I have a little box I keep my secrets in. Mom’s on my bed, my little papers litter the pillow. She’s found a private picture of me and someone we both love. Why doesn’t she look surprised?