Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

Every single Sunday, since I was a kid, my family would go to this old-school diner in New Jersey for brunch. It was our THING, you know? Coffee, pancakes, and the “Truth Session.” ​My dad, who’s this super intense, no-nonsense guy, started it. He’d say, “If we don’t air the laundry, it just rots in the basket.” So, we had to share one honest thing we’d been hiding that week. Usually, it was dumb stuff... like my sister admitting she dented the bumper, or me confessing I failed a chemistry quiz.