All That Life Can Afford

by Emily Everett

My mother was gone, yes, but for twenty-two years she’d been the warmest, kindest, gentlest part of my day, someone who always listened to me, understood me.

All of the city sprawled below us; I devoured it, like always. Like I could tell Mom about it later, on the phone.

“He wouldn’t want to help, and I wouldn’t want his help. It might be the one thing we agree on.” I said this mildly, like we just had the regular sitcom-family problems.