Rain hammered the glass like it wanted in, but nothing outside that house was getting past me again—not the twenty-six-foot U-Haul idling in my driveway, not my father’s outstretched hand, not the old family script that said I was supposed to fix everything they shattered. By midnight, they were sleeping in their Buick, my phone was exploding with accusations, and a single unsigned note on my kitchen counter had turned my entire childhood into evid… Continues…
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