Love Isn’t Rent
On the cover of the folder, Ben wrote in thick black Sharpie: “When you’re ready.”
My mother came to the duplex nine days after the dinner.
She arrived unannounced, carrying a plastic-wrapped garment bag.
I watched her approach through the mesh of the screen door.
I noted the way she’d re-pinned her hair.
The way she’d chosen her second-best string of pearls.