To Each Our Own Winter
After Dad’s affair, Mom began sprinkling flour into his underwear every day.
“That way, it’s clean, and I can see the truth,” she murmured. Her face was deathly pale.
Dad always stood by the bed with his head lowered, letting her do as she pleased.
When he left the bedroom, he would catch my worried gaze and give me a gentle smile.
“Ellie, your mom’s sick. She’s just playing a game with me.”
However, that day, Dad was leaving for an out-of-town business trip. While packing, he quietly pulled out the flour-dusted pair and replaced it with a clean one.
The moment Mom saw it, she snapped.
She rushed over and grabbed his suitcase.
“Why did you switch it?” she shrieked. “Are you going to