“What’s for dinner?” I asked, mounting the yellow Cosco stool in the corner of the kitchen.
“Tuna casserole. Bad day?” chop chop She always knew.
“You’ll have more.” Her eyes never left the cutting board, but her attention was fully on me.
I felt tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. “I think I’m having my first heartbreak,” I croaked.
She smiled gently. chop chop chop “You’ll have more.”
Our meal was simple – poor food some call it – but filled with love. It helped and it healed. And of love, we would always have more.
In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about comfort food. How can this familiarity influence a story or character? Is it something unusual, like Twinkies from the 1970s? Or is it something from home, from another place or time? Go where the prompt leads.