Mira
“Are you hungry?” he asked as we walked back into the banquet hall. His voice was deflated, and the dark circles around his eyes were starting to show.
I hadn’t eaten the entire party. My stomach had been too tense while I tried to entertain our guests. I hadn’t seen him eat, either.
Now that we had talked, though, my stomach ached with hunger. It gurgled at his question, as if on queue.
The servants hadn’t cleared the massive buffet-style table yet when they’d left the room to give us space. The food was still warm, and it looked delicious.
Cheeses and crackers were paired with every type of fruit and cracker I could imagine. Cuts of steak were still left out on the table next to delicious-smelling barbecue sauce and chimichurri. Mashed potatoes and colorful veg
