Neighbors huddled around her broken body that lay on the street, legs and arms positioned in awkward arrangements. Shattered glass near her. They looked up, pointing to the open window. She jumped, took her own life. Such a pity, some wailed.
I didn’t jump. I heard my six-year-old son calling for me. “Mommy! I’m thirsty.” I brought him a glass of water, but he wasn’t in his room. I heard his voice from outside the window. He likes to fool me ever since he left this earth. All I did was answer him because that’s what mommies do.