Claire's living room was a sanctuary of beautiful, boring normalcy-sun-bleached couch cushions, a woven basket spilling over with primary-colored toddler toys, the clean, faint smell of lavender floor cleaner.
It was a world where problems were spilled juice and missed naps. She handed me a heavy mug of peppermint tea and sat cross-legged on the rug opposite me, her face soft and open.
“Okay. Talk. You look like hell warmed over."
I held the warm ceramic, letting the heat sear my palms. Where to even begin? With the glacial distance? The suffocating silence? No. If I started at the edges, I'd never reach the center. I had to begin with the grenade, pull the pin, and let the shrapnel fall where it may.
"We had a threesome."
The words dropped into the quiet, sunlit room like lead
