The Note Under the Table
I looked at my son’s face in that hallway and understood that he had been trying to tell me something true for a very long time, and that I had spent months teaching him not to.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay.
I believe you.
Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Chapter 4 — A Special Blend for Your Stress
We walked back to the table, my knees loose under me with every step.
I sat down without touching the mug.