The kids race through the house, collecting homework and cleats, stuffing them into their backpacks. Karen takes on Daisy’s tangled braids, and then heads out to drive them to school. When they’re gone, I am left to fall apart. Again. How do I know that something is wrong? It’s not only that he hasn’t called me back. Is it a parent’s intuition? Were there warning signs that slowly seeped up into my consciousness? Were there clues in what he said that I detected on a subliminal level? Or was it the laconic pauses between his words? Where is he? I will not accept the most likely answer: that he
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