Last “Thanksgiving” Supper

“Grateful for you.” He leans over and kisses me.

I feel nothing. Just skin touching.

“You too.”

He knows I don’t mean it.

Everyone else around the table chews in silence.

“Well, I’m grateful for Grandma’s mac and cheese! We missed this last year.” My sister Shelby shovels a spoonful into her mouth. Her stomach is the size of the 20-pound turkey at the center of the dining room table.

It’s no secret how the pandemic has treated our respective marriages.

But for Grandma’s sake, Frank and I have agreed we’ll wait until after the holidays to announce the divorce.  

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