Maggie Meyers

I went to the treehouse and Jeffrey was reading his comics again, smiling when he greeted me. “Can I come sleep over tonight?”

What his father said next before he hung up the phone and left me to my grief was what sent more chills up my spine, left so many unanswered questions running laps through my brain. It lives with me now, ten days later, makes it hard to sleep at night.

I quit way before I would have reaped any benefits for retirement, before official job security took care of me for the rest of my life.