I ask Albert if
he hates his mother.
He says no.
“But aren’t you mad at her?”
“Not anymore.”
He offers me a gummy worm.
I pop it in my mouth.
“When did you stop being
mad at her?” I ask.
Albert squints. “I don’t really know.”
He shrugs,
then looks away from me.
“It just all stopped,” he says.
“I woke up happy one day.”
He hands me another worm.
Okay.
“Thanks, Albert.”