It was a drawing.
Our house.
Three stick figures.
Me.
My daughter.
And a third figure lying on the floor.
Red crayon everywhere.
“What is this?” I whispered.
“She drew this during class,” the teacher said.
I tried to laugh it off.
“She likes dramatic stories.”
But then the teacher flipped the paper over.
My daughter had written something.
In shaky handwriting.
“Daddy says mommy will disappear soon.”