The first thing they noticed was the silence of the kitchen, the way the air sat flat and empty where smoke and garlic should’ve lived, and for the first time in six years I didn’t move to fill it. Ryan’s family drifted in with their paper plates and open expectations, glancing from my cold stove to my work clothes to the single deli salad with my name on it, not yet understanding that every missing pan, every blank counter, was a rec… Continues…
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