The creamed corn. And the spoon… covered in a mix of cream and, well—me. I blink, then let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. Out of all the fucking dishes in this Friendsgiving feast, it had to land in the creamed corn. Of course it did. The irony isn’t lost on me. Creamed fucking corn. Still chuckling under my breath, I stir it in. No one will ever know and it will give me something to look forward to at this fucking dinner.
