I ate a biscuit over the sink like a secret

Dear Delyara, Not because I was hiding something terrible. Because I wanted one small thing that was only mine for thirty seconds. The children were in the other room, my husband was on the phone, dinner still needed sorting, and I stood in the kitchen with one biscuit in my hand eating it quickly before the next request found me. I actually caught myself enjoying the privacy more than the biscuit. That’s what made me sad. Not the biscuit. The fact that privacy has become something I sometimes have to steal in crumbs. I don’t need much some days. Just a little bit of unshared time with my own mouth, my own thoughts, my own hunger.