Begin the story here…
“What is this?” I asked, holding the pan above my head. She stared, not knowing if she was supposed to reply. “It was a pan.” My voice was beginning to grow a hard edge to it. “Now, it is a pan that was moved.” Olivia just continued to look at me. I raised the pan up and waved it around, “Why would you move it?”
“I didn’t.” Olivia stated. “You must’ve, because it’s certainly not where I put it!” I shouted, swinging the pan around, shaking it before me. Olivia flinched back. I’d scared her. Shit, I thought, dropping the pan on the floor.
“Sorry, honey,” I cooed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She chewed her lip and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. I sat down, folding my legs under me.
“So,” I began. “Do you forgive me?” Olivia looked up from the spot on the floor and nodded. “Good, then you can help me put everything back where it belongs and start dinner.” And I grabbed her hand in mine as we walked back toward the kitchen.
*This is part 8 of a longer story. Continue here.