I blinked.
“What?”
She patted the chair beside her.
“Sit down, sweetheart.”
I sat.
Confused.
Frustrated.
Scared.
She reached for my hand.
“When your father died, I saw what happened.”
“What happened?”
“You stopped living.”
I looked away.
She wasn’t wrong.
For two years I’d worked nonstop.
Twelve-hour days.
