Endless

My fears from this morning slowly started to reemerge. Exactly what did Henry remember about me? I was scared of what these “questions” of his might be about. And even more terrified of what might happen if I answered.

However, also like this morning, it seemed my fears were, once again, completely off-base. Not two seconds later, he moved away from me and sat in his chair again. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward eagerly.

"Now, Ms. Walton, what did you really think of the food?"

I blinked. Perhaps it was the fuzziness in my head, but did I hear him right? The food? Did he really do all of this to ask me what I thought of his cooking