from her before she was old enough to know it. If this money does anything useful, I hope it gives you choices without ever telling you which one to make.
Lauren cried.
So did I.
Then Sophie, completely uninterested in generational trauma, demanded more cake.
The apron still exists.
Lauren never threw it away.
For a long time, it remained folded in the back of a kitchen drawer.
Then one afternoon, I found Lauren sitting at the table with a tiny pair of scissors.
She was carefully removing the pale-blue
