I don’t remember life without her. Auntie was always there until, of course, I shot her. I was 18. The gun? It was hers. She kept two, a shot gun her son used to hunt deer with and the little handgun that she used to put away ‘destructive raccoons.’ I …
I was a disappointment to my parents. They never said so, but sometimes walking into a room, where I heard a whispering conversation seconds before an embarrassed silence descended. My mother was always the first to recover. “There you are, dear; your father and I were just discussing we should …
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