My Husband Burned My Hand on the Stove

light blinked.

I closed my eyes for one second. Just one.

“Get up,” Daniel said.

I didn’t move.

“Clara. Get up off the floor. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Patricia clinked her glass against the granite. “Leave her. She likes it down there.”

Richard laughed from the couch without turning his head. He had not looked at me once. Not when I screamed. Not when continue reading …