#Chapter 50: Picking Up Pieces

I took my time cleaning up the mess in the kitchen. I wanted Ethan to feel like he had as much space and privacy as possible while he figured out his feelings. I stared at the blackened meat, dry and crunchy vegetables, and with a sigh threw them all away. If I was in such a position a year ago, I’d have eaten them anyways and been thankful. Waste was such a privilege that I was glad to finally know a little taste of it. Eventually, though, the kitchen was clean and the living room sparkled, I needed to go upstairs to bed. I slowly crept up the staircase, the house was silent except for Ethan’s voice booming from his office. He was obviously still on the phone, two hours after the news, and it sounded like the person on the other end might be Mars, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. I wanted to knock on the door when I passed, stop and offer him some comfort. I knew, though, that my presence would only complicate things. I sulked to bed, washed my face and cover