Eventually, somehow, she got me home. We didn’t talk much. We would be, maybe tomorrow, but today, no.Everyone from the salon from where she had wor...ed for so many years attended the funeral, even some long-time customers. The wake was at her house, my house now, I guess. I’d be selling it: too many memories for me to keep it.The wake ended in the early evening, and Penelope and I headed home and made plans for the following days. We’d be preparing the house for sale. Packing up mom’s stuff:. .” she thought, squirming on a chair that was clearly designed to keep distracted undergrads awake during lectures, rather than help an exhausted grad student catch a well-deserved catnap in the middle of the goddamned night. Her wrist brushed her nipple, and again she thought about how long it had been… “Dammit!” she snarled again. Sitting up, she realized that her mind was simply not going to let her sleep; she was too keyed up from coffee, worry, and—now—irritation and frustration. Clearly,. More

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