Lavender could not bear even one more glance. Somewhere deep and full of denial, Lavender knew the last time she saw her children had already passed—she could not withstand their questioning eyes, their rosebud mouths, the little fingernails she’d grown from nothing. So she didn’t look. With her back turned, Lavender stepped into the day. “Be good,” she said, and she shut the door.
This is leaving me in shambles
