“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“You have children who should be here too.”
“They have lives.”
“So do I.”
The words came out harsher than I intended.
“I had a job.”
“I had friends.”
“I had things I wanted to do.”
“Sometimes I feel like my whole life is pills and laundry and appointments.”
Margaret looked down at her hands.
I immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
She reached toward me.
Her fingers were cold and crooked.
