A French Twist
Mom went back for her own plate and we started in. Before long, she sat down, smiling at us mischievously.
“I have great news!”
“What’s that, Mom?” Carly playfully challenged her through a mouthful of garlic bread.
“We’re going to Paris for the last two weeks of July!”
Mom clapped her hands together and beamed across the table. Carly and I went silent. I stared at Mom as I digested the news, my fork frozen on its way to my mouth.
“Well, don’t all cheer at once!” She gibed, as her furrowing brow betrayed a taint of hurt.
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