“Her moodiness...” my mother says in a loud whisper to Aunt Arlene. “It's those teenage hormones.”I glare at the back of her head. She'd be moody too if she were responsible ... [+]

My dad came home from work and sat on the black leather couch in the living room. He always sat in the same spot. He always looked tired. Every night went the same: first work, then couch until the ... [+]