Love Isn’t Rent
Sitting on the aisle with her silver hair and my exact face, calm as a woman who’d been waiting thirty-six years for a room exactly like this.
My mother entered at 8:50 with her expensive Indianapolis lawyer.
She swept in the way she enters everything: chin lifted, camera-ready, the county’s most beautiful fifty-eight-year-old woman, in the deep emerald suit she reserves for major bank meetings.
She swept the room in one jeweler’s pass.
It snagged for half a step on Renee.
I watched my mother see her sister.