my mouth. I took the clothespins out slowly.
It had been six weeks since my release from prison.
Six weeks, and the sound of a slamming door still made me sit straight up in bed at night with my heart pounding. Six weeks, and I still asked permission before I opened the refrigerator.
Now Monica was standing in front of me, outside a house that wasn’t mine, threatening to send me back.
And on her wrist was our father’s watch.
The gold one, with the scratched face and the brown
