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“You have drama.”

“Same family.”

A laugh comes out of me.

A real one.

Tiny, but real.

Nobody makes a big deal about it.

Thank God again.

I eat the cookie.

Outside, a motorcycle starts.

My body recognizes the sound before my brain does.

Bitter's bike.

I freeze for half a second, then keep chewing.

It gets louder, comes closer, passes the school, then fades.

I do not go to the window.

That feels like winning something.

Not much.

Enough.

At the end of the day, Mercy finds me washing brushes.

“You still want me to get Mama?”

I stop, my throat tightening.

“Yes.”

“And your suitcase?”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

I think about the paper coffee cup.

NO, THIS IS NOT A DATE.

The shirt I left folded near his bathroom.

My toothbrush.

Nothing important.

Everything important.