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  5. Unlike my mother, my father does not cry quietly. His wails ...

Unlike my mother, my father does not cry quietly. His wails roll out like a wave of pain, and I scramble to roll up my window. My mother cannot hear that. I cannot bear to hear it myself. I am not used to my father's crying. I've had no time to harden my heart against him.

Margaret Haddix
Mother, Pain, Father
Margaret Peterson Haddix (2008). “Double Identity”, p.5, Simon and Schuster
Unlike my mother, my father does not cry quietly. His wails roll out like a wave of pain, and I scramble to roll up my window. My mother cannot hear that. I cannot bear to hear it myself. I am not used to my father's