My father followed with heavier steps, his shoulders broader but somehow slouched, as though life had slowly bent his confidence inward.
Behind them came my younger sister, Julia, dressed in a bright red coat that looked far more expensive than anything our family had owned while I lived under their roof.
Beside her walked a young man I didn’t recognize, probably a boyfriend.
They were seated at table fourteen, directly across from the open kitchen.
From where I stood, I could see everything.
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