But after finding hundreds of nearly identical kitchen photos on her phone, I couldn’t let it go.
For the next few days, I became hyperaware of the room.
I rinsed my plates. I put food away. I made the kids clean up their snack wrappers.
One afternoon, I even swept and wiped the counters.
When Deanna came home, she stopped in the doorway.
Her eyes traveled around the kitchen.
Then she looked at me and smiled.
« Thank you. »
« For what? »
She hesitated.