My Brother Hid a Recording Module Beneath His Daughter’s Dining Chair
She stared at the flyers instead of me.
Her cup tipped again, and a line of cold coffee ran over her knuckle.
“You think I wanted any of this?”
“I think you liked the house.”
“I didn’t know about the little boxes.
Not at first.”
Her voice went up on the word boxes.
I let it sit there.