Where did you get that ring

I am done confusing love with access.”

Diane’s face broke.

For a moment, I saw the little girl who had cried over a spelling bee. I wanted to touch her hair. I wanted to say, It’s alright, baby.

But it was not alright.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever in the way she wanted.

“You may write to me,” I said. “Through Margaret. If your letters are honest, I may read them.continue reading …