“I got in!” Anna cried, waving her acceptance letter as she ran through the house. “What on earth are you talking about?” Fay asked crossly, plucking an imaginary hair from her faultlessly groomed brow. Was that a wrinkle? Maybe it was just the light. Or a shadow. She tilted her head. “College, mama. Remember?” Anna said breathlessly, plopping onto Fay’s unmade bed. Fay felt that there was no point in making beds. They’d just get messed up again. This also applied to dishes.
“College? No,” Fay murmured, lighting a cigarette. It really was a wrinkle. Was it?