This morning's 100 words:
You came over for dinner that night--reluctantly, although I didn't realize it then. I'd made something special, probably chicken with rice, the only meal I had ever really attempted to cook in my small apartment kitchen; like you, I subsisted mainly on fast food, chips, and visits to the college cafeteria. I remember that you walked in, late, and sat on the floor next to the coffee table. The food was already cold; I'd called you early, but you'd taken a long time to arrive. The food wasn't all that had grown cold--but I didn't know that yet.
depressing. how is it the cook is always the last to know?
ReplyDeleteI know it's depressing--too bad it's also true, huh? ;)
ReplyDeleteThe cook is always the last to find out because the bearer of bad news knows that it's best to consume free food before delivering the news--better for the one giving the bad news, that is!
I'm consistently amazed by how much you can capture in so few words! This actually leaves me with a feeling of relief . . .
ReplyDeleteDeb, thank you. That's so nice of you to say...
ReplyDeleteIt was a hard ending, probably worse than even the ending of my first marriage, but yes, I can look back now and see that it was a relief as well, an end to the "never knowing for sure."