I remembered watching from behind the door my mother sit on the edge of her bed, the shades pulled down and her body hunched over as if she had no strength to hold herself up, as she cried for the drunken husband who had disappeared once again. It had taught me one thing: make sure to close the door all of the way. So only after I heard the door click shut did I sit on the edge of the bed, and cry for the husband who had forced me to leave him.
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