FIFTY SEVEN

DAMON

After mixing the reddish, sweet-smelling sauce with my dish of white rice which was almost finished, I stole a glance at the small bag I packed for my vacation with Selena.

Yes, I decided to go on the short holiday Selena proposed. And surprisingly, I haven’t had second thoughts.

I don’t know if it is because of my willingness to escape the pain I am suffering or if I simply want to be closer to Selena after the words she said the other day. Either way, I haven’t grown cold feet about going on vacation and that seemed to be a good thing to me.

“Damon, have you fixed your broken door?” My mother asked as she walked out of the kitchen with a smaller plate of rice for Rebecca who had just arrived from her play date. Dropping the plate a little bit loudly on the dining table, my mother planted her hands on her waist and stared at me with intent. “Don’t tell me you left that door unattended to.”

“I didn’t. It has been fixed.”

“Good,” she sparingly replied, her hand running through Re