“Was your mother under the influence of alcohol at the time of-”
“What did you suppose of the photographs-”
Esther heard each and every shutter click, every image frame advance. She seen the strand of hair that was caught to her lower lip, the tiny paper cut on her index finger.
It was as if she were standing miles apart from the crowd, even even though she should have reached out and touched the woman from CNN.
“Esther! Esther! Esther!”
For a dizzying moment, she let herself faux that this used to be for her; that she had earned this attention.
“Did you be aware of about your mother's affair?”
At that, Esther turned. She locked eyes with a small, beak-nosed man wearing a KOMO four hat. “No.” She flashed a bright, faux smile. “I'd make a joke about it, however it is not very funny.”
