Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document
A small white box sat on it, the digital fever thermometer I had bought that afternoon.
“You need to sit down.”
“I’m not sitting.” He fiddled with his watch strap.
“The creditors aren’t going to wait, Mom.
They’ll take the house.”
“Whose house was that?”
“Mine.
Victoria’s.