EROS
Claire Dawson confronted me right in my own kitchen. She was just five feet away, dusted with baking ingredients, and declared that my daughter's dietary guidelines lacked joy. She said it boldly, without flinching, without retreating, and without the polite restraint that everyone else around me had learned to adopt.
No one spoke to me in that manner. No one.
The most troubling thought that kept replaying in my mind was that she was right. About the laughter. About the cookies. About the expression on Chloe's face when she savored something sweet and simple, feeling, if only for a moment, like an ordinary kid enjoying a typical afternoon.
I headed downstairs to get some water. The kitchen was immaculate. Every surface polished, every dish cleaned, every sign of the cookie inciden
