30
CHLOE
Back in my room, I take a shower to clear the remaining haziness from my mind and change into my pajamas. Then, brimming with anticipation, I get comfy on the bed, open the laptop, and bring up a browser.
I start by looking for news coverage of my mom’s death. There isn’t much, just an obituary and a short article in a local paper reporting that a woman had been found dead in her East Boston apartment. Neither goes into details, tactfully omitting any mention of suicide. I’d already read both the article and the obituary when I stopped at a library in Ohio a couple of weeks back, so I don’t spend much time on them. Instead, I make a note of the reporter’s name and look up her contact info, then log into my sss and send her a long, detailed email outlining exactly what happened
