A collection of short stories.  Masks I only forgot my mask once before, when I think I was 13 or 14. Mother and Father made such a fuss, that I tried very hard to remember it after that. Father’s wrath was terrible, but Mother’s anger hurt more because it was expressed as disappointment rather than as rage. I could hide from Father, but the guilt and shame at having disappointed her was inescapable. “Remember what happened to your brother, Ella.”