My mother said, “Not hide exactly-just pretend we’re not home. It will be like hide and seek.”
The knocks got louder. This game wasn’t fun anymore. I was seven and liked playing games like tic-tac-toe and go-fish. Crouching on the kitchen floor wasn’t a good game.
“That’s it—no money, no milk,” the man yelled, pushing a paper into the mail slot.
It had lots of numbers written in red ink. Mom grabbed it and stuffed it into her apron pocket. I never saw her cry before.