They said he was my father, but I couldn’t be sure. They guided him down the hospital ramp to the open air, then released him into my custody. He’s not my father, I said. They said, Of course he’s your father, the surgery went smoothly, he has all his memories, of course it’s him.

Why am I annoyed? Why am I yelling? I know why, it’s not a question, who am I even asking it to, why am I asking it, I know why, it’s because the air purifiers are too loud, incidentally the husband hasn’t gone to get the table runners yet and I am trying

His arrogance was bothering me that day, that arched eyebrow, an eyebrow that felt like it could impact my local weather even though he was halfway across the world in New Zealand. “Of course they’re going to respond that way if you give them reason to,” he said. Since he was my friend, I hesitated to tune him. But eventually I became exasperated. While…