Pietje S. Kobus - Writer

Anna

I knew Ella tried. She said so. Every week, we called on the phone. She tried to sound upbeat, but her voice suggested otherwise. 
"Mom," she said one weekend, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can change." There was a long silence, in which I didn't know how to respond.
"Can I live with aunt Jenn in Seattle for a while?" she asked.
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