“I don’t think you’re the right person to tell me what to do,” he said, taking a plate of mashed potatoes from the counter. Seeing the agitation on her face, he quickly added, “I just think you should relax, that’s all.”
He left the room abruptly, avoiding the conflict just like he had been avoiding the truth.
She stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen.
The chicken broth smelled like disappointment, and the family hadn’t even arrived yet. She looked at the tableware, ready to be put on the table.
She was sure some of them would break that evening.