My Brother Kept Bragging About a Deal He’d Already Lost

The Quiet Seat

We ate dessert in pieces.

Not together. Not really.

My mother placed a slice in front of me and said, without meeting my eyes, “I wish you’d told me.”

I looked at the pie. Perfect crimped edge. Burned spot near the center. Same as every year.

“I wish you’d asked.”

She stood there a moment.

Then she nodded once and went back to the kitchen.

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