R A Y V I N
As we arrived home, everywhere was dusty and looked abandoned. Immediately, Miranda and I, set to work. Cleaning every inch until it was sparkling clean. I wonder when and how I found solace in cleaning because unlike before, I enjoyed it frequently now. Maybe it was a result of being with an organized man. Remembering him, nausea coiled up down my throat. I swallowed hard in other not to hurl up the little content I had on the floor. Hearing or noticing anything about a memory I had with him hurts me more.
“Are you okay, Ray?” Miranda gave a gentle tap on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I covered up my sadness with a faint, fake smile. “Let us hit our favorite spot. You must be hungry and tired. So is little Katherine.”
“I can't wait to have a taste of their chicken and chips. It has
