“Does something hurt?”
He shook his head too quickly.
Judith answered for him.
“He is dramatic.”
I looked at her.
“I did not ask you.”
Dustin kept his eyes lowered.
“Can we go upstairs?”
“Yes.”
I carried his untouched plate into the kitchen.
The potato was cold enough to have come from the refrigerator.
There was no butter.
No salt.
Nothing else.
On the counter sat a covered tray of fried chicken.
I placed two pieces on a clean plate with fruit and warm bread.
Dustin stared at it.
“Is that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma said I already used my food for today.”