My classmates made fun of my birthmark for years

in behind me, her perfume arriving before she did.

“So. Prom with Caleb.”

I did not answer. I kept my eyes fixed on the sink.

“Enjoy your one night, sweetie,” she said, voice dripping honey. “Make it count.”

She smiled at me through the mirror, then walked out.

My mother came home that night smelling like the diner where she worked her second shift. I told continue reading …