years of silence.
And apparently all it took was one knock for them to remember.
Dad cleared his throat.
“We need to talk.”
I stepped aside.
“Fine.”
They walked into my apartment.
Mom immediately looked around.
She noticed the new furniture.
The artwork.
The television.
The kitchen I’d renovated.
She noticed everything.
She always did.
Then she sat down on my couch as though she still owned the place.
Dad sat beside her.
I stayed standing.
“What happened?” I asked.
Mom smiled.
“Nothing happened.”
“Then why haven’t I heard from
