Chapter Text
May 16th, 2019, 2:42PM
I've been checking and rechecking the refrigerator for the past hour. I could sketch its inventory from memory. Eggs are tucked in the side shelf, produce stacked full, from stiff carrots to wispy greens, leftovers scattered across the shelves, an empty corner awaiting a pot of rice...
I can't help it. I have to reassure myself that, yes, there's an after-school snack waiting for Trucy, that, yes, tomorrow's school lunch is there, and perfectly acceptable for a growing girl.
It's hard. Who knows how long we'll have the luxury of a fully stocked fridge? I glance over my shoulder at the messy counter. Two empty plates. I made us Chinese breakfast crepes. A crispy flatbread with a layer of eggs cooked on top of it. Trucy ate hers up, and I stuck mine in some Tupperware, claiming that I'm saving it for a little later. It's a lie. I say the same thing every day, and even though she's just a little kid, there's no way she hasn't caught on by now.
Everything tastes like sand, and chewing is so tiresome. The food I swallows feels like it sits right at my Adam's apple, threatening to come up at any moment. It seems so melodramatic, but every bit of existing is almost painful, and it's only been about two weeks since my disbarment. Or rather, it's already been two weeks. I shouldn't still be in this slump, I should be getting back my spark and spunk so that I can find out the real circumstances surrounding my disbarment. But really, it's a miracle I'm able to take care of Trucy at all. It's like something possesses me, something deep inside me. I guess some sort of primal paternal instinct that allows me to swing my legs out of bed, to physically step right-left-right-left into the kitchen, knowing that I can neglect myself all I want, but Trucy...
How long has it been? I stop staring at the dirty dishes and check the oven clock.
3:26PM
I let out a sharp exhale. She'll be home any minute. I quickly put the dishes into the sink, rustle through the fridge for an orange, and quickly peel it. She hates peeling it herself. It's too messy to keep her gloves on.