Twenty-One
Paul walked into a kitchen enveloped in the aromas of freshly cooked food. Marie had roasted the chicken he had taken from the freezer that morning, and left in the fridge to thaw. She’d found enough potatoes and onions in the pantry, and frozen vegetables in the freezer, to make a meal for five. She’d even made gravy. That was something he’d have to learn.
She looked up from the bench as he came into the kitchen. ‘How are you feeling?’
He walked over to where she was standing and hugged her. ‘I think I’ve had a break through.’
‘Oh.’ She stopped cutting up the chicken and turned to face him.
‘Yes, I felt myself being dragged into that black hole I was telling you about, being drawn in by a voice telling me how worthless I was, and how hurt I should be feeling, blah blah bla
