I pictured my mom, alone in our little apartment on the Upper East Side. I tried to remember the smell of her blue waffles in the kitchen. It seemed so far away.
Let me get this straight. Your table ran away because you polished it with Windex?
My mother says looking is the nature of wisdom.
Everything happens for a reason, Sadie, even bad things.
I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or what.
Before I could figure out how to apologize for being such an idiot, she tackled me with a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. "I'm glad you're not a guinea pig." "Me, too." I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt.