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At 9:18, she had emailed herself the statements, the credit card screenshots, and the medical bill confirmations.
She had not known what she would do with them.
She only knew that being called crazy felt different when you had proof in a folder.
A woman learns to document what love keeps denying.
First the money.
Then the words.
Then the moments nobody else is supposed to see.
Patricia stepped fully into the nursery and grabbed the crocheted blanket from the rocking chair.
Mia’s body moved before her mind did.
“That was my mother’s,” she said.
Patricia looked down at the blanket as if it had become more interesting.
“She won’t mind,” Patricia said.
“She’s dead,” Mia replied.
Patricia’s eyes hardened.
“Don’t be selfish.”
The word landed in the middle of the nursery.
Selfish.
For wanting a crib her father had built.
Selfish.
For wanting a blanket her mother had made.
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