“You want that dress?” my mother asked, glancing up nonchalantly from her own perusals. “Why would I?” I snapped, perturbed with myself more than her. “For someday,” said my mother. “But I’m not even going to have kids,” I argued. “You can put it in a box,” she replied. “Then you’ll have it, no matter what you do.” “I don’t have a dollar,” I said with finality. “I do,” my mother said and reached for the dress.
