I smile at Dinah. “Oh yeah, it was a piece of cake.” The meal has been eaten, and we are at the kitchen sink, washing dishes. The warmth of the food radiates through my body, restoring my equilibrium and my sense of normalcy and place in reality. My hands are wet and soapy up to the elbows, and I'm reminded of when I came home, and the water I used.
And how red it was...
“So did you find the missing boy?” Dinah asks, drying the dish I had used just a few minutes ago.
I nod as I hand her a cup. “Yeah, we found him.” For a wonder, I don't drop the glass.