of delivering insults while maintaining a perfectly polite expression.
And for almost seven years, I’d been the person they seemed to enjoy criticizing.
Sometimes it was something insignificant.
I’d parked too close to the garden.
My hairstyle wasn’t flattering.
Theo’s boots weren’t the proper brand.
Once, Brenda casually mentioned that I’d looked prettier when my hair was shorter.
Another time, she questioned whether I was raising Theo to be sufficiently disciplined.
Individually, the remarks sounded harmless.
Together, they had slowly convinced me that nothing I did would ever satisfy them.
