Dismissed For Lacking A Degree, I Let My Life Speak For Itself – The Archivist

When I returned, my parents were relaxed. My mother had refilled her wine. Beatrice scrolled through her phone.

“You were useful for once,” my father said.

My mother smiled thinly. “See? You can contribute when it matters. Stop crying now. Beatrice is the flower. You’re the dirt. Your job is to bury yourself so she can bloom.”

Beatrice flinched slightly continue reading …