Chapter 1 - The Boiling Point of Red Sauce
The kitchen air was heavy, thick with the sharp tang of crushed tomatoes and raw garlic.
A blue flame hissed violently beneath a massive stainless steel pot.
Thick, maroon bubbles breached the surface of the sauce, bursting and spitting tiny red flecks onto the pristine white marble backsplash.
Martha did not wipe them away.
Her hands, heavily veined and slick with grease, maintained a slow, punishing rhythm with a heavy wooden spoon.
A drop of sweat gathered at her temple, cutting a shining path through the flour dusted on her cheek.
It hung for a second at her jawline before dropping onto her light beige blouse.
The fabric was already clinging to her spine, dampened by the heat of the stove and the heavy, breathing weight attached to her back.
A tightly woven cloth, striped in aggressive slashes of maroon and black, cut deeply into her collarbones.
Inside the cloth, a toddler slept, his chin digging heavily into her shoulder blade.
His small chest expanded and contracted against her aching spine.
Martha shifted her weight from her left foot to her right.
Her knee joints popped, a dry, hollow sound completely swallowed by the bubbling of the stove.
She stared into the red abyss of the pot, her eyes vacant and bloodshot.
May you like
She stirred.
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