“Why are you laughing?” I asked, my voice steady. “Because she’s a janitor? Because she’s my date? Because she’s the only family I have left?”
I paused, scanning the room filled with faces—some curious, others uncomfortable. The laughter had died, replaced by a heavy silence that seemed to press down on us all.
“You think it’s funny that someone who’s worked tirelessly to raise me, who sacrificed her entire life for me, is here dancing with me? She’s not just my grandma. She’s my hero.”
