that try to dress theft as wisdom, and that was one of them.
She looked at her son and saw the boy who once fell asleep against her shoulder during thunderstorms.
She saw the teenager who had wrecked Robert’s pickup and cried in the garage because he thought his father would stop loving him.
She saw the man standing in front of her now, choosing ownership over blood and calling it practical.
She could have told him everything then.
She could have told him that Robert had seen this coming
