There was something off. Not just the kind of tired‑from‑gym‑class off. It was the kind that sends a chill down a parent’s spine. I’m a single mom, and my son is a gentle, quiet boy who’d rather draw comics than rough‑and‑tumble. He’s the kind to sit next to the lonely kid in the cafeteria. So seeing him come in like this left me reeling that day. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I walked over and asked softly, “You okay, bud?” He nodded — but it was the kind of nod that said, “I don’t want to talk, but please ask anyway.” The kind that screams something heavy is sitting on his chest. I sat on the edge of the coffee table, careful not to push. “Rough day?” I asked.Continue reading…
