ANDREA (five years old)
I was dreaming. My chest felt heavy, my knees were pressed together. I was still. My throat ached from having practiced these lines I was about to give dad.
I walked into his room after knocking. I let myself in when he asked me to. He didn't even spare me a glance so I took that as a welcome address to go on.
“Daddy, can I have a birthday cake?” I clapped a little, my voice excited and small. “All my friends at school have cakes on their birthdays. Can I also have one before going back?”
Dad was reading something. He didn’t answer at first. Then he looked at me, and his mouth moved slowly. “What are you so happy celebrating?”
That hit me. His voice was deep, tired, and cold. I wanted to say something but the words were caught up in my throat. He continued to
