At 3 A.M., My Brother Dragged Me Out of My Bedroom While Dad Laughed—He Had No Idea What the Smoke Detector Had Recorded

“Which terrible cake?”

“The chocolate one I made when you were fourteen.”

I remembered.

It had collapsed in the middle.

Aaron joked that it looked like a crater.

Douglas complained that the oven wasn’t working properly.

Elaine decorated the damaged center with strawberries.

I’d loved it.