It was yours, I told you, the house, since your mother was gone. I’d paid it off recently, and this was part of your inheritance. You looked around and said softly, “I don’t want it. I’ll never live here again.” Too hurt to respond, I simply nodded. I’ve worked a lifetime to own this house, and you don’t even want it? Fine! I’ll keep it for myself. No need paying rent elsewhere, I decided, when I own an empty house.
