She stood in the kitchen, raw anger plastered across a usually serene face. Nothing in this house was hers; not the dishes, the spacious kitchen, the walls that enclosed said kitchen, the house itself wasn’t even hers. After all this time, all her patience, being understanding, compassionate, and so damn forgiving…she was standing in a house that was no longer hers; washing dishes in a sink that were no longer hers.


Welcome to week Ninety-Four of Three Line Tales! A wonderful challenge to create a piece about the given photo. Want to join? Click the link Three Line Tales.