Nobody Has to Bleed to Be Heard

I yanked open the refrigerator.

Bare.

The smoked salmon, the beef, the broths, the fruit, the milk, the vitamins — even Liam’s imported prescription formula — all gone.

Taped to the inside of the door was a note in my mother Eleanor’s sharp handwriting.

We went down to South Beach to ring in the New Year with Chloe, Mark, and the others.

Make do with whatever’s in the pantry.