her stood my father.
He looked older than I remembered.
His hair had gone almost completely gray, and there were deep lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.
My mother, on the other hand, looked almost exactly the same.
Perfect hair.
Perfect coat.
Expensive handbag.
And that expression.
The expression she always wore when she expected me to do what she wanted.
I didn’t move.
“What are you doing here?”
Mom gave me a wounded look.
“We’re your parents.”
I almost laughed.
Three
