The grandson pushed his grandmother into the lake, knowing full well that she couldn’t swim and was afraid of water, just for fun: relatives stood nearby and laughed, but none of them could even imagine what this woman would do as soon as she got out of the water. –

• “Absolute trash family.”

• “Hope the inheritance was worth it. Oh wait, she cut you off! LOL.”

• “I used to go to school with this guy. He was always a bully.”

His “friends” hadn’t called. His girlfriend had blocked him. He was no longer the “cool kid” with the pool and the sports car; he was just a kid on probation with 200 hours of community service ahead of him—cleaning the very park where the lake was located.

Traditionally, Sunday was the day the grandmother spent six hours in the kitchen preparing a roast for them.

This Sunday, the “family” sat around a bucket of cheap fried chicken. The silence was deafening. There was no one to complain to about the seasoning. No one to serve them hand and foot.

“Maybe if we just… call her?” Leo whispered, looking at the greasy chicken. “Tell her we’re sorry? Tell her I’ve learned my lesson?”