I suddenly felt my own knees buckle, and I sat down beside her on the couch and exhaled sharply. That’s where I’d seen the address. I remembered that my mother kept a newspaper clipping in her dresser drawer about an incident that happened at that address. I never knew what it was, but I knew it must have been important for her to keep it like that. I had always been a snoop. I was a curious child, and I went through every inch of the house on a regular basis. I’d found some dirty magazines under my brother’s mattress when I was twelve. I blackmailed him into giving me half of them in exchange for not telling Mother. Hey, I said I was a curious child! When I found the clipping, I hadn’t understood what it meant. I had looked at it several times after that first day, but it never registered to me what it was. It was a simple story that mentioned a murder at the address, and police said it was a crime of passion. I never knew what that meant. I couldn’t speak. I desperately wanted to ask her a million questions, but I couldn’t find the words.
