I laughed softly.
“Fine. My electric bill is higher than usual.”
“How much higher?”
I hesitated.
“Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.”
“What? Mom, did you leave the air conditioner running all day?”
“No.”
“Did you forget a window was open?”
“No.”
“Maybe the fridge is acting up.”
“The fridge is younger than you are, sweetheart.”
She laughed.
I didn’t.
Something about that bill bothered me.
After we hung up, I stood near the kitchen window, staring outside.
And that was when my eyes landed on the house next door.
Monica’s house.
Monica was younger than me by more than thirty years.
She was in her mid-thirties, married, and had three children.
Her husband traveled often for work, which meant Monica was usually handling everything by herself.
I had always tried to be understanding.
Being a mother was hard.
Raising children was exhausting.
Everyone needed help sometimes.
That was why, over the years, I had ignored small things.
