Two days before Christmas, my mother disapperared. I was in the middle of an agrument when the phone rang. "Could you get that?" I asked. We were in the family room, and I wsa on my knees. Sara remained where she was in the middle of the room, impossibly long legs planted firmly apart on the tile floor, stubborn hands poised on improbably slin hips. She was wearing elasticized cherry-red, too short, too tight tank top, and ankle-length black boots with three-inch heels. Her hair had yellowd from exposure to the sun, except for the dark roots that framed her oval face like a wide headband. the answering machine will pick it up," she said, not buudging. "why won't you give me any money?"
No comments:
Post a Comment