Dinner Time

By Joanne Lin

The summer air wraps tight against the room. “How was your day?” Ma asks. Her voice drifts into the air and collides with the smell of rice. Chopsticks bang into one another. Soft words said as a battle for the last piece of broccoli emerges. Taste buds, they sway and dance. Stomachs dissolve into happiness, smiles erupt. 

This love, rare as it is, stumbles and falls into an everyday routine.