During Robert’s Funeral, My Sons Stood By The Casket With Dry Eyes And Perfect Black Suits…

dressed in black, wearing dark sunglasses, using my grief as a shield. Richard hugged me the second he saw me.

He didn’t smell like a son. He smelled like expensive cologne and lies.

“Mom, thank God. You scared us so much.” Harrison tried to kiss my forehead. I stepped aside. “I’m tired.”

“That’s why we brought the doctor,” Richard said smoothly. “He continue reading …