y son died,

e blinds, the same way it did before. It was a p

scholarship interview at Northwestern

ure ended with the sound of h

ey came

, told the cameras I was a monster, a cont

doctored video of me, ranting, shoving papers into Leo' s portf

tched the ones on my hands from a gardening acci

e. I ended it in a cold, empty apartment, t

w, I w

were the same expensive Egyptian cotton. The air held th

s the same. E

n the nightstand.

for Leo's celebration tonight? A new

who held my hand as I cried, all

h a life of their o

Don't want

add a smi

ng his portfolio. He was brilliant, my son. So full of promise. He look

ing,

weetheart.

s, but

kissed my cheek. Hi

u look a little pal

ell-rehearsed performance I

eam," I said,

my past life, spat at me a

him, Sarah! You couldn't sta

with for twenty years. This man who had orche

pure, so cold, it

to the intervi

lips. "But I thought you had that meeting w

. I want to be

eo out of my sigh