4. Crumple. Diverge.She said heroes, really? Pria texts.
Yeah, I text back.
Good one. I know you said you couldn’t tell me what is really going on, but hey, great story.
Not a story, I text, and attach a selfie with my newly dyed pink hair.
Whoa. Didn’t expect that. You okay?
Never better, I reply.
I drink my coffee and watch passersby on the cobblestone streets as I look over the crumpled paper the flight attendant gave me. Dad calls.
“Pria showed me the photo,” Dad says. “Is that an absinthe bottle I see?”
“I’m fine, Dad. I love you.”
“Well you’ve got your mother worried. She wants to talk to you.”
There is quiet, then Mom is on the phone.
“I’m not worried,” she says. “Your father loves the drama.”
“Mom I—”
“Dear, I understand. You explained everything.”
“I did?”
“You came
