Next to each faded name, a small red circle with a slash through it sat beside the phone number.

Before nine o’clock on December twenty-seventh, six members of my family had blocked my number.

The glowing phone screen showed six family contacts marked as blocked.

The Oak Ridge Public Library smelled of damp wool and old paper.

Brenda sat at a corner table beneath the tall narrow windows with her glasses resting next to an open yellow notepad.

I unzipped my canvas tote and pulled out the blue plastic three-ring binder I had bought at Target for four dollars.

Brenda lined the edges of her notepad up with the edge of the oak table before she touched my printed pages.