““My pop used to stand in our kitchen, wearing his checkered flannel shirt and pajama bottoms with definite hip-hop swagger. He was too cool. Growing up, he’d say we spend our lives wrapping rubber bands around people. Some bands are so tight that you can feel them pulling you together. Some are loose and stretch for miles, there’s so much give you hardly notice them. But you’re still connected, and sooner or later...” She releases the band and it snaps back into her wrist. “Ow.” She breathes in through clenched teeth and rocks forward. “That hurt more than I thought it would.””
