The first thing I tasted was blood—warm, metallic—filling the space where my front tooth used to feel solid. I was standing in my parents’ kitchen, my paycheck notification glowing on my phone. My sister, Kayla, sat at the table scrolling through luxury handbags. Dad leaned against the counter, already wearing that expression of entitlement. “So,” he said, “your salary hit, … 👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
