Worse.
Slow.
Like her bones had gone missing one by one.
Noah climbed into her lap even though he was getting too big for it.
“What’s wrong?”
She held him so tight he squirmed.
“Nothing you need to carry.”
That was the thing about my mother.
Even with nothing left, she was always still trying to stand between us and the weather.
Mrs. Holloway kept apologizing.
“I swear I didn’t share it. I swear. I would never.”
My mother nodded once.
“I know.”
But she didn’t sound like she knew anything good anymore.
She sounded like a woman counting exits.
My phone buzzed then.
Denise.
I looked at my mother before opening it.
She nodded, jaw tight.
The text was short.
Ava, I just saw the post. I did not share your photo. I’m on my way.
That should have made me feel better.
