My Mother-in-Law Shoved Me Down the Stairs, and My Husband Begged Me to Call It an Accident—Then the Doctor Saw My X-Rays
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Chapter 26 / 27
Chapter 26 - The Casserole Dish
The original casserole dish shattered on the basement landing.
For almost three years I never bought another ceramic one.
Metal pans.
Glass containers with handles.
Anything else.
Then I saw one in a store.
White ceramic.
Blue handles.
Almost identical.
My body noticed before my thoughts.
I stood there longer than anyone should stand in cookware.
Then bought it.
Not as exposure therapy.
I needed a casserole dish.
The first meal I made was baked pasta.
Caroline came over.
She stared at it.
“You’re getting dramatic about cookware now?”
“I was waiting for you to make this unbearable.”
“My work is done.”
May you like
We ate.
The dish became a dish.
