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The contractor made it very clear that this was a dumb idea. “You can’t fix a roof in the rain,” he declared

I wonder if that’s his secret. I wonder if he’s still feeding off his mother’s smile, or her energy, or her joy

“Show me your pass.” She’s brimming with authority, inflated as a helium balloon. I stutter, the words stuck in my throat like marbles

“We really, really do not care what is wrong with the plan or the setup or the gift or anything, okay? So don’t say a word”

Suddenly, the tears started to fall. But he’s my son, I told myself. I worked so hard to raise him. Why is he so happy to run off?

Fine, so I broke a hundred of Sarah Chana Radcliffe’s rules at once. Lock me up