The vacuum cleaner scrambles my brain. After a few hours of restless sleep, I don’t want to hear the loud buzzing noise.
But I promised Grandpa I’d be here, and I’m not going back on my word. And anyway, I’m not working at the diner today, so I can nap if I’m dog-tired later on.
I pat my back pocket, feeling the piece of paper with my mom’s details written on it. I’m never letting it go. Just to be safe, I’ve written her details down at least half a dozen times in case I lose this piece of paper.
I can’t believe I found her. It feels wrong that it was so easy, because nothing in my life has ever been easy.
But I’m not ready.
Not yet.
I’ve been here for close to a week, and I’m a day away from receiving my first paycheck, so going to see my mom has to wait. And that’s because I don’t
