For three weeks, my daughter kept coming home in clothes that were not hers.
At first, I told myself I was imagining it.
The day she came home in a shirt I knew wasn’t hers, I finally asked about it.
“Julia spilled juice on me.” Ellie shrugged.
“That doesn’t explain where you got the shirt you’re wearing,” I called after her as she walked away.
She shut her bedroom door.