The newspaper came out early on that Tuesday morning.

By noon, my phone would not stop ringing.

Every single relative who had abandoned me in the worst hour of my life — the father who could not come, the mother who texted about a birthday, the sister who blew out her candles while I stood between three caskets, the aunts and uncles and cousins who had not so much as sent a card — every one of them was suddenly, urgently, desperate to reach me.

The phone lit up again and again with the names of people who had not called once in six months to ask if I was alive.