THE UMBRELLA LADY

“She wasn’t paying attention? On her goddamn phone? She was supposed to be watching them!”

The mother’s voice cracked like a whip across the sterile walls of the police station. Christina sat slumped in the metal chair, mascara streaked down her face, shaking. Her phone was still warm in her pocket—still open to the FaceTime call she hadn’t ended, as Nikki listened in, trying to decipher the muffled madness.

“On fucking FaceTime, while my babies were out there alone! How could you?”

Christina choked on her tears. “I—I just looked down for a second. I had to pee. They were in the yard. They were right there.”