“How did you get up there?”
There stood a little girl, chocolate stains all over mouth. Disgusting. She scampered off. I'm never going to have kids.
“Mom? Mom!”
Looks like that little girl scampered off a little too far.
“Mom! Get down! You just broke your hip for godsakes.”
Wait, was this woman talking to me?
“Oh, hello. I’m just waiting for Harry.”
Her face slackened.
“You’re not 19, Rita. You’re 84, you live in Darien and you have three kids and two grandkids.”
She was obviously confused, but she looked so sad, so I came down off the roof.
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