“It’s fish,” I say as I take a spoonful of the water-based food from the bowl and it goes down my throat, stimulating my tastebuds with its spicy flavour. I had figured Gloria would have made chicken soup. I bite into a piece of sliced carrot- hmm. Gloria had magical hands- before she came to cook for us, I hated cooked carrots, but now I could actually bear to consume it.
Damian looks at me but I am not self-conscious. He’s eaten already and is sipping the coffee Gloria just brought up, so in having the remaining contents of the bowl. His colour is somewhat returned, and his tired-looking features are eased a bit. I am relieved. He twists his mouth when I pick up a chunk of onion onto my spoon, but catches me by surprise with his words. “My dog died last night. That’s where I was. Home
