River
The dining room was unusually quiet.
Sunlight streamed through the floor to ceiling windows, spilling across the polished oak table. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of buttered toast, filling the room with the warmth that contrasted sharply with my mood.
I unfolded the morning paper more out of a habit than interest.
“You are reading a newspaper?”
I looked up.
My mother walked into the dining room, dressed elegantly as always. Even on breakfast, she looked like she was in her way to an important meeting instead of spending a quiet Sunday at home.
“I didn’t know people still did that,” she teased as she took the seat opposite me.
“I like the silence.”
She smiled.
“A rare luxury in the family.”
One of the house keepers poured her coffee be
