by CHRISSIE ROHRMAN
Let It Go by Ben Lelis | Flickr
It looks roomy enough inside the freezer chest, but even after putting my weight against the lid, it still won’t close completely. I squint down through the vapor at my mother’s wrinkled face.
Even dead, she looks disappointed in me.
With a sigh, I haul her limp body back out of the freezer. For such a small woman, she was heavier than I expected. It seems poetic, considering the weight of disapproval I’ve felt my entire life.
“You’re out, James,” she’d sneered at me from across the polished marble countertop. “I’m seeing my lawyer tomorrow. The house, the cars and jewelry—it’s going to your brother. All of it.”
domo slurpee / Rakka / Flickr
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