I take the bins out Tuesdays.

I drive her Thursdays.

I am learning the biscuits, and I am nearly there, and Enid says when I’ve got them she’ll consider her work done, which is a joke and also not one.

We built a family, an old woman and a broke girl, out of a listing at two in the morning and four hundred dollars and a great deal of pride we each had to set down.

I used to think family was a thing you were issued at birth, fixed and final, the people you were stuck with whether they fit or not.