“Once the tears began they didn’t stop until I felt I’d never be able to produce another drop of the salty tears that flowed down my cheeks. With my eyes swollen and my lips chapped, I emerged only to eat the soup Johna set on the table. We didn’t look at each other and ate in silence. Though I might have noticed Johna glancing at me out of the corner of my eye I didn’t have any interest in engaging her. I didn’t want to talk about Ivy. I wasn’t ready. That evening, after crawling back on the co...t, I heard a knock at the door. It was past business hours and Johna rarely had unannounced guests. It meant only one person: Mark. His deep tenor echoed through the house but I couldn’t make out any of his words. Nor did I understand Johna’s voice, but her tone was clear. She asked him to leave, short and to the point. His voice rose, I assumed in protest, but I had no interest in listening at the door like Ivy and I had done in the past. I had little interest in anything but sleep.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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