“There were two grey Samsonite suitcases on the bed, and she was now sitting on a third, trying to get it to close. She turned to look at her son, her face scarlet from exertion. “I know money’s tight,” she said. “I know I’m a burden.” A red horeshoe began to pulsate inside Noel’s brain: the PET scan image of his mother’s shrinking hippocampus. “Let me help you with that bag. They can be a real bugger sometimes.” One step forward, two steps back. Why is nothing bloody working? “They don’t work …... like they used to.” After removing a pair of winter boots and two umbrellas, he closed the case and snapped it shut. “Who said money was tight, Mom? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” “Him. That man.” “JJ?” His mother shrugged. “If he did, he’s mistaken. We’re rolling. Here, shall I put these … in a better spot? Ready for the morning?” His mother stared straight ahead, worry creasing her forehead, as Noel pulled each piece of luggage off the bed and placed them by the door.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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