Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. ” He left the room, and she stood motionless, with flaming cheeks, listening to his retreating footsteps.
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