Mara
I yanked the trash bag too hard and split the side allowing garbage to pour across the pavement like it had been waiting for an excuse.
“f**k!,” I muttered, bending down to grab it before Lily could see.
Too late.
“Mommy, the bag exploded,” she announced helpfully from the porch, swinging her legs like this was entertainment.
“I see that.”
My patience had been hanging by a thread all morning. Not tired patience. The sharper kind. The kind that comes from holding yourself together too tightly for too long.
I shoved the trash back in with more force than necessary, tied it off, and hauled it toward the bins.
The sound of a bike engine rolled down the street behind me.
Low. Controlled. Familiar enough now that my spine stiffened before my brain caught up.
I didn’t turn around.
