Where did you get that ring

are beautiful. White columns. Magnolia trees. Sunlight spilling over brick paths. Staff in black vests moving with trays and headsets. A harpist tuning in the garden like nothing had happened.

My mother grabbed my arm near the bottom step.

I pulled free.

“Do not touch me.”

Her face twisted, not with guilt, but panic.

“You cannot do this to your sister.”

I continue reading …