A/C. It was Martha. My mother-in-law sat in the passenger seat, a rigid statue of disappr

ed, her voice sharp. "We've been on this highway for an h

fixed on the road. "There was an accident reported o

e in her mouth. "A real man would know his way around h

indow, a silent, weary passenger not just in my car, but in his own life. Th

bit. "Well, it's a big city. And I wouldn't want t

he middle of nowhere with you," she shot back. "At

s the target again. It always came back to me. Every conversation, every problem, every minor inconvenience was s

e building. I built worlds with words, but in Martha's world, that didn't pay the bills in a way she could respect. She couldn't brag to her friends about my quarterly reports or my promotions

rban house Olivia and I had bought two years ago. The

ing the neat lawn and the freshly painted

very nice house, Martha." His vo

with a loud, aggressive click. "Hardly big enough for a family. Of cou

ile. "Let me get your bags, Martha." I trie

looking around the quiet cul-de-sac. "And the neighbors

se from the trunk. I could feel Robert's eyes on me, a flicker of something-

her shoulder, already finding fault with a life that wasn't hers

. It felt a lot heavier than just clothes. It felt like the weight of the next few weeks