He held it in both hands, his knuckles going white as he gripped the smooth china edges.

“I already told you where I was,” he whispered.

“I know you did,” I said.

“Don’t you ever ask me about my business trips again,” he said.

He brought his hands together in a sudden, violent twist and snapped the thick plate right down the middle.

The sharp crack sounded like a gunshot in the closed-in space of the small kitchen.

He didn’t drop the pieces right away; he held the jagged halves in his fists, his arms trembling a little from the effort.