She opened the "New Post" screen. Her finger hovered over the photo library. She bypassed the presets, the Lightroom edits, the carefully crafted grid. She scrolled to the bottom. To a blurry, poorly-lit screenshot from the school play. It showed a small, orange-clad girl on a stage, and in the foreground, a tiny hand holding a crayon drawing of a mother with a phone for a head.
Then she turned the phone off, placed it face-down on the counter, and walked into the living room where Finn was building a lopsided Lego tower. She sat down on the floor next to him—on the real, crumb-covered floor—and said, "Hey. Can I help?"
He handed her a red brick.
She pressed record.
The Glass Shelf
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