The Empty Plate
Theresa was just stressed.
Daniel was just caught in the middle.
Lauren was just insensitive.
Aaron was just joking.
Every individual wound came with a ready reason to absorb it, and I absorbed them all, for years, because absorbing them let me keep believing in the family I had married into.
But an empty plate at a laden table admits of no such excuse.
It is too plain, too deliberate, too complete.
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