sixty-eight years old. Emily had been very close to him since she was little.
They often spent time together. My father picked her up from school, took her out for ice cream, and sometimes Emily spent a few hours at his house on Saturdays.
Until that day, I had never once thought I had any reason to worry. But now the same sentence kept repeating in my head.
You have a very beautiful body.
“Emily,” I asked again, “did Grandpa say anything else?”
She thought for a moment.
“He said I shouldn’t let anyone make me think there’s something wrong with my figure.”
I looked at her. Instead of calming me down, that answer only raised more questions.
“Where were you when he said that?”
“At his house.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah.”
Then Emily picked up her phone and went to her room.
That night, I barely slept. One part of
