Renata’s Pink Blanket Led Me Back to the Letter My Parents Buried

Neither of them answered.

The serving dish sat between us, its lid resting crookedly against the handle.

I folded the photocopy and put it in my pocket.

I had come expecting an explanation.

Instead, I had two parents who seemed more concerned about the question than the answer.

“Please eat something before you go,” Carmen said.

“I have to get back to Renata.”

“She is being looked after.”