It was raining. She was wearing slippers.
And the first thing she said was, « Please don’t call Scott yet. »
« Mom, what happened? »
She looked behind me toward the door. « Can I come in first? »
I stepped aside.
She shuffled past me, soaked from the knees down, clutching both grocery bags like they contained everything she owned.
In a way, they did. She had no purse.
No suitcase, coat, or phone charger.