When Anna mentioned her high school reunion, I barely looked up from my phone.
She stood by the kitchen counter, twisting her hair into that loose knot she always does when she’s pretending something doesn’t matter — even though it clearly does.
Behind her, the house was in full chaos. One kid hopping around with one shoe on. Another groaning over homework. The baby banging a spoon against the high chair like a tiny drummer.
Our life.
Loud. Crowded. Full.
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