The Message From My Son That Forced An Impossible Choice – The Archivist

that maybe she was being cruel.

But Rebecca just stood there, arms crossed, waiting for me to leave.

“Happy birthday, Rebecca,” I said.

And I left.

The Aftermath

I drove home on autopilot. Carried that expensive cake into my modest apartment. Stood in my tiny kitchen and stared at it.

Then I threw it in the trash. Watched it land with a dull thud on top continue reading …