Chapter 5 - Child Logic and Broken Bread
The silence stretched so long that the quiet dripping of red wine onto the carpet sounded like a ticking clock.
Drip.
Drip.
Seven-year-old Lily slowly set her fork down on her plate.
The silver tines made a faint ping against the china.
She looked at her father kneeling on the floor, then at her grandmother’s disheveled grey hair.
Lily pulled her hand away from Maya’s grip and reached for a bread roll in the wooden basket.
She tore the crust in half, the dry crumbs scattering over her pink dress.
"Daddy?" Lily’s voice was small, soft, and entirely clear.
Michael didn't move. He kept his eyes locked on the floorboards.
"Is Aunt Sarah sick again?" Lily asked, holding out the half-torn piece of bread toward her father.
"You only go to her house when she forgets to eat her medicine."
Chloe’s tear finally broke free, tracking down through the red scratch on her cheek.
She didn't wipe it away.
She looked down at Michael’s hunched back, her lips pressing into a razor-thin line.
"Is that where you were, Michael?" Chloe whispered.
May you like
"Every Thursday?"
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