“Don’t you ever tell anyone that I cry when I watch Donald and his wife getting ready for bed,” she said, sobbing. I groped for my clothes in the dark and found the Mother’s Day card I had made her. I tucked it under her pillow as I listened to her mumble some final words in her sleep.
I seem to pick the Haitian stories where a young girl is without her biological mother. I also seem to go after the stories that mamke you cry within the first chapter.
