The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence, the only sound being our shallow breathing. Finally, Adrian poured the clam chowder from the thermos into a bowl and smoothly slid it across the table to me.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, he muttered, "Just eat first. I'll get you something else later."
As I stared down at the bowl, memories I had tried to bury came flooding back.
It was about half a year ago when I caught COVID virus for the second time. My entire body ached, fever burning through me, and I could barely move. I had weakly asked Adrian to hand me a thermometer.
But I was too weak. The mercury thermometer slipped out of my hand and shattered on the floor.
Without a second thought, Adrian grabbed Clara by the hand and rushed into the kitchen, locking the glass door behind them.
He yelled at me, covering his nose, "Emily, are you that stupid?! That's mercury! Do you even understand how toxic that is? Why aren't you cleaning it? Forget it. Just clean it up! I'm taking Clara out of here so she doesn't inhale the fumes."
Clara, visibly shaken, pointed at the dining table, her voice trembling. "Adrian, what about my clam chowder?"