“Right. Clara,” Robert sneered. “Hard to keep track.”
The meal proceeded in this fashion—snide comments masked as conversation, the clinking of forks against porcelain the only reprieve from the awkward silence. Leo was swinging his legs under his chair, bored and hungry.
Then, it happened.
The Spill That Stopped Time
Leo reached for the crystal water jug. It was too heavy for his small hands. His grip slipped.
It wasn’t a disaster. It was gravity. The jug tipped, and a splash of water sloshed onto the pristine white tablecloth. It didn’t even shatter. Just a wet spot near the gravy boat.
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