One day before my brother’s wedding, he demanded my penthouse and told me to move into a rental home. – Welcome

the kitchen.

“You’re getting whatever piece lands on your plate.”

“That is unfair.”

“It is Christmas.”

“Exactly.”

I laughed and carried the cake into the dining room.

Then I saw my chair.

There was nothing special about it.

No decoration.

No name card.

Just a plate.

A folded napkin.

A glass.

One chair between two others.

Someone had counted me before I arrived.

I continue reading …