“You don’t believe me,” my stricken mother said between sobs. She swore two men had broken into her house, but police had found no sign of forced entry. When asked to describe the men, she said they had no faces. The officers smiled and shut their notepads. I showed them out, apologizing. Third time that month we had to call the police. The other two times she’d lost her way home from bingo. She continued sobbing unconsolably. I grabbed my car keys. “Where are you going?” my sister asked. “To find those bastards,” I said, fighting back my own tears.
Salvatore Difalco lives in Toronto, Canada.