“Why are some people so mean?” “I wish I had answers to everything, son, but I don’t.” Harry gave his mother another intense, thoughtful look. Rachel picked up her daughters who chattered like mynas. Five minutes later Harry let out a yowl. A bee sting? Had her cigarette spark burned him? Rachel looked anxiously at her son. His sisters ignored him as sisters sometimes will, preferring to continue a petty spat in the backseat. Through the car window, Harry indicated the empty lot behind McLean’s Appliances and pointed to a box that had once housed a Hotpoint Kitchen Queen oven. “I want that, Mom!” Rachel didn’t say, Aren’t you a little old to fool around with a cardboard box? She didn’t even ask Harry why; she just pulled the car over. The day after George had carried suitcases to the front door, screamed obscenities, and slammed out, she had taken the kids to Kmart. Andrea had wanted a special skirt that “all the girls are wearing.” Sophie had found a book on constellations. Harry had asked for nothing. The corrugated container seemed in good condition.
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