At 7:20 a.m. My Bank Manager Said There Was Six Figures of Debt in My Name

after the support group, watching the neighborhood settle into its ordinary evening rhythms: a neighbor walking a dog, children on bikes calling back and forth to each other, the sky going pink and gold above the rooftops.

“Do you ever think about her?” Emma asked.

“Sometimes,” I said. “Then I remember she has eight years to think, and I have the rest continue reading …