Eva's POV
I head for the kitchen slowly, like I'm trying to give myself time to decide if I want to return to the living room. But I already know I will.
The popcorn bag is on the counter, barely half full. I sigh and tip the rest into the bowl.
The clinking sound of kernels hitting ceramic fills the silence of the kitchen.
I don't bother heating it.
It's not about the taste. It's something to do with my hands, my mouth, my thoughts. Besides, who eats popcorn in the morning? Do you see movie theaters putting up a movie in the morning?
The answer is no.
You know why? Because no sane person in their minds would have popcorn by eight o'clock in the morning. I guess I'm not sane.
I'm cleaning my hands against my silk night gown as I hear laughter and loud cheering fro
