I wanted one meal that stayed hot

Dear Delyara, That was all. Not a better meal. Not a fancy one. Just one plate of food that didn’t get interrupted by a question, a spill, a missing item, a dog scratching at the door, someone changing their mind about sauce, or my own brain suddenly remembering something important right in the middle of the first bite. Tonight it was pasta. By the time I really sat down with it, it was already warm instead of hot, and somehow that tiny detail summed up the whole day. Nothing ruined, nothing dramatic, just everything arriving to me a little late and a little thinner than it should have. I ate it anyway. I was grateful for the food. I was still sad about the pattern.