Around her the kids are screaming, but Dena can hear something else. The hiss of onions maybe, an angry hiss, like they’re charring
Beautiful as ever and very much alone.
*****
She is working on a spreadsheet at work. Crunching numbers. The Sisters annual shabbaton. Reich wanted figures. They’d gone through the budget, how much could be funded, how much they’d have to ask the parents to contribute.
Sisters. Siblings of illness or disability. Never mind that it was also for brothers.
She half-smiles at the computer, searches for an e-mail. The grant from the Gold Foundation. She reads the e-mail again. Hmm, they didn’t want to fund consumables…
“Dena, lunchtime, hello?”
Ella is waving a paper over her head like a fan.
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