During Breakfast, My Husband Hurled A Mug Of Hot Coffee Toward Me Because I Refused To Hand My Bank Card To His Sister

to speak to the reporters.

I went home.

My home.

The locks had been replaced.

The kitchen table remained, although Emily had helped sand away the coffee stain because I could no longer bear to see it.

Daniel’s chair was gone.

Megan’s mug was gone.

The rooms smelled of lemon cleaner and fresh air from open windows.

For several minutes, I stood at the kitchen continue reading …