I went into the kitchen cautiously, every muscle in my body tensed. Sue was settled back in her armchair, embarrassment keeping her cheeks a soft red.
Roman stood over the oven, two cans of tomato soup pried open and empty on the counter, a long wooden spoon straining under his grip. Tiptoeing towards him, I collected the cans and recycled them feeling the need to talk and at the same time at a complete loss for words.
She hadn't remembered me. A couple hours away and she'd lost all recollection. That was serious, and something that had undoubtedly been going on for a while. A part of me, a drop so small, was glad. Glad that I'd never had to see my parents go through that. Never have to look into my dad's hazy eyes and remind him who I was, where we were.
Roman spoke as if sensing my he
