of salmon.
At six o’clock, right on schedule, David and Harper came downstairs.
The kitchen was spotless.
The stove was cold.
I sat at the island eating.
David stopped.
“Where’s dinner?”
I looked at my plate.
“Right here.”
He stared at me.
“I decided to scale back. Cooking for three every night is exhausting.”
Harper opened the refrigerator.
“You could have warned us. We don’t have anything ready.”
“There’s a pizza place down the street.”
The next morning, a laundry basket appeared in the hallway outside my door.
It was
