Some bikers were painting my mother’s house pink after she died at 4 a.m., and I didn’t know any of them.Some bikers were painting my mother’s house pink after she died at 4 a.m., and I didn’t know any of them.

here? And why, of all things, were they painting my mother’s house?

I didn’t know any of them.

—

### Confrontation, or Something Like It

I walked toward them, my steps uncertain but determined. One of the bikers noticed me and nodded, as if he had been expecting me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He looked at me for a moment,continue reading …