“When I woke up yesterday morning, I saw how Mom had spelled out HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE in magnetic poetry on the fridge before she left for work.

It was a stupid thing to write. I knew from hunting with Jill what real hell looked like.

But I also knew what Mom really meant: HELL IS LIVING WITH MY WORTHLESS LARD ASS SON WHO STAYS OUT ALL NIGHT, EATS ME OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME, AND NEVER MINDS A SINGLE WORD I SAY. She just didn’t have the words and letters to spell all that.

There are never enough words and letters to fill the gaps between us...”