I ran out the front door, called my spouse, and begged them to turn off the alarm from their phone. They were miles away, driving to the store. I had to wait until they could pull over. A few minutes later, blessed silence.
To my immigrant parents, home ownership was the American dream. When they died, both my mom and dad were worried about me renting forever, never having a home to call my own.
[
add
]
[
|
|
...
]