My pregnant wife was on the floor with a bl:ee:ding lip while my mother pulled her hair. When I saw her phone still lit up, I found a note that said: “H:it on the cheek.” The worst part was discovering it wasn’t the first time.
They say a man’s home is his sanctuary, a fortress against the cruelties of the outside world. But sanctuaries are fragile things, built on the assumption that the people you invite across the threshold possess a soul. When that assumption is wrong, the fortress does not protect; it entombs. That Wednesday afternoon, the sky over…