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Tupperware on the table.

I took out a plate.

Then another.

And another.

Not because I was going to eat with ghosts.

But because I had finally understood that a table with available seats calls to life.

I served rice.

I added a little salt.

I tasted it.

It was good.

Not perfect.

Good.

Outside, in the hallway, someone let out a loud laugh. Another answered. A pot continue reading …