23 - Kathleen
I was still interrogating the mirror and my soul about my wardrobe choice when I heard a racket in the kitchen area. I thought about the pie in the oven, and decided then and there that I was sufficiently prepared.
I ran to the kitchen, where Stan was getting red as a fresh tomato and Maeve was hunched over the sink, bawling her eyes out. Searching for the cause of her distress, my eyes fell on the shards lining the bottom of the sink, the bigger pieces oddly familiar.
So. The Paris honeymoon vase has met its fate. I felt regrets mellowing into nostalgia. Bryan had been so happy then, even if he grumbled at the extra weight in our luggage. At a time, I would have hurled the vase breaker through the window, or dress him or her down.
Then I saw the flowers in Stanley’s hand
