There was extra sugar frosting on the cupcake and a dash of vanilla extract. Just as he liked it.
She poured out another glass of wine and helped herself to it, choosing to ignore the bitter aftertaste.
This anniversary, she dined alone.
The stage was set. Friday, we closed shop early.
Papa retrieved his apron. Mama put her hair up.
A coin flip decided the protein. I chose the cuisine.
Cousin Firo was picked as impartial judge.
Nobody knew he was allergic to beef.
He takes the coffee tables with the recliner and moves in with his brother. I keep the flat and his old shirt.
Next Sunday, we plaster smiles and show up together for brunch at Grandma’s.
So promise you won’t say a word.