I was stirring risotto when my husband called, a regular Thursday night.
“I’ll be home in forty minutes, lots of traffic.”
“Ok,” I said.
“Oh and I just got off the phone with Nate*.
“Really? How is he?”
“Fine. He has his college break this weekend.”
My wooden spoon paused in its repeating circle around the cast iron pan, rhythm altered. An omen of sorts.
“He has a break?” I repeated.
“Yeah, he asked what he should do. I told him to call you.”
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Published on October 28, 2016 08:32