Is it socially acceptable to like sad stories?
(Side note: No diatribes about traditional gender roles, please — I love to cook, he doesn’t. I hate to clean, he doesn’t. It works.)
…nky, and I hated the way he slurped his cereal. It made me mad the way he yelled at my grandmother, who was sweet enough to cause a toothache. I avoided him like the plague, but there were times I had no choice but to be around him. Whenever h…
…t in my arms at the funeral as the Catholic priest talked about how wonderful Jack’s life had been. It seemed like everybody was blind, deaf and dumb. Having lived right there in his house, I knew there was more to Jack than anybody was telling.