Bad news. I most definitely couldn't taste a single one of his mother's dishes. The atmosphere was so stifling that I could hardly lift a utensil without feeling judged for the way I used it. A beautiful plate of well-cooked steak, mashed potatoes and salad sat in front of me, but was left practically untouched. The few bites I was able to force down weren't appreciated enough.
“So, you met at a college party," the woman's eyes glare at me. “Interesting. I thought you weren't one for parties, Ray."
“I didn't have much to do that night, so I thought why not." He shrugs, taking in another spoonful of mash potatoes. I look at him with admiration. Ray can really continue eating like nothing under this kind of pressure? I guess he's gone numb to it since this is probably what it's like for h
