JJ
I stared at the food on the floor, at a strip of chicken lying against the toe of my boot, and felt that old hollow feeling open behind my ribs. Not because of the food exactly. Because of how small the cruelty was. How petty. How easy.
He hadn’t yelled.
Hadn’t hit me.
Hadn’t done anything anyone could point to without sounding ridiculous.
He had simply let go too soon.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, voice dripping with faux concern.
I looked up at him.
He looked sincere.
That was the worst part. He always knew how to arrange his face into something that made the world doubt the truth if I ever dared to say it out loud.
“My fault,” he added. “You almost had it.”
My fingers flexed at my sides.
“It’s fine.”
“You sure? I can order you something else. Have it delivered.”
That off
