by Sarah Goldstein
I feel like shit, I said, lifting my hands from my face, and you paused mid-stride I’ll make you noodles, you said, and I closed my eyes, hearing the fridge squeak open handing me the bowl, you said, sorry, it’s mediocre at best and I said, what
I owe you one, I said, feeling the steam in my eyes, the warmth on my tongue and as you washed the pot, I heard the rush of the faucet mixed with your laugh no you don’t, you said, and you reached out to take the bowl from me
art | Davis Kurepa-Peers
true care
no, thank you thank you for giving me this, without hesitation none for you, not even one drop of broth
fh 6
