hard against my back and butt. Ummi put down two cups of steaming lemon tea and said it was hard for her to remember, talk about, admit the Community happened. She remained standing, holding on to the top of a chair with both hands, the bejeweled rings on her fingers gleaming. I shifted in my seat, pulled a knee close to my chest. Ummi opened her mouth to speak but said nothing. The sun was setting a crimson orange across the Manhattan skyline and shot sunlit darts into the room that cut narrow shadow lines across her face.
