Darkness held her, quiet and heavy.
Somewhere inside it, voices echoed.
“Slow down, you'll choke."
“I won't, Mom!"
A little girl's protest. Her own.
The dark thinned.
She saw a small kitchen, yellow light on worn tiles. A girl sat at the table, legs swinging, cheeks stuffed with rice. A woman wiped her mouth with a napkin, laughing.
“Look at you," the woman said. “Rice everywhere."
“It's good," the girl mumbled. “Mom's cooking is the best."
The front door banged.
“I'm home," a man called. He stepped in, loosened tie, tired eyes softening.
“Dad!" the girl shouted.
He leaned down, kissed the woman's cheek, then stole a bite from the girl's plate.
“Hey," she cried. “That's mine!"
“Our," he corrected. “What's this? My daughter stealing my dinner?"
She giggled.
A teenage boy wan
