“What’s going on?”
I pointed.
She glanced at the scratch.
Paused.
Then shrugged.
“It’s just a car,” she said.
I stared at her.
Waiting for more.
An apology.
A correction.
Continue on the next page:
Buzz
An eight-year-old girl sleeps alone, but every morning she complains that her bed feels “too small.” When her mother checks the security camera at 2 a.m., she breaks down in silent tears….
My name is Sarah Collins. My family lives in a quiet two-story home in the suburbs of Palo Alto, California—a house filled with sunlight…
