Espresso

He wanted to focus on what she was saying but his mind had other plans. Her voice was imperative, wanting, demanding. Blocking it out could not only be blamed on his fatigue. Her tone was red with no hint of compassion and it made him forget why he loved her. Then suddenly she stopped herself, stroked his hand, and he looked up adoringly into her eyes.

Shopping Cart Lady

She had been pretending for years now. Her identity as matron was over and she was deep in denial. She continued to bake and cook for a family that didn’t exist. Ghosts at the Sunday dinner table. And with the pies laid out on the table she dug into the tub of ice cream accepting that she had to move on.