Dad was breathing regularly but wasn’t snoring, and the room was barely dim even though the curtains had been drawn.Mom entered the closet and began...moving clothes about, evidently not worried about the noise of rustling hangers. I stood in the doorway, watching her petit but lithe body.“How about this?” Mom held out a dress, still on its hanger. She quickly discarded it and held another in front. “Or this?”I nodded to both. Mom retrieved two more dresses while I looked confused at the dresses. I was glad for her, but not so glad for me. Being the boss's secretary sometimes meant late hours and once or twice a month she had to accompany him on a business trip. I hated it when she was gone because it meant that a part of me was missing when she wasn't there. I hated it when she had to work late because that cut into our snuggle time on the couch. Christ, I hated it when she went grocery shopping and left me at home. I had it bad, real bad, and it seemed as though Polly had it just as. More

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