chp 2 Tom-ato

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Darya

I'm sitting here making a sandwich as Tom, my fiance, critiques me on it. As if he's a master chef when he is never even capable of making instant noodles. I place my cheddar cheese on my sandwich, and my lettuce and cut my cucumber on the chopping board. And close my sandwich. opening the fridge and grabbing myself a tomato.

As he watches me like I have broken some food law. I feel uncomfortable by the glare he is giving me while he stands there leaning against the fridge. As if he pities me for having to acknowledge I exist.

I take a bite from the tomato and another bite from the sandwich.

“You know you have a chopping board,” he points out the obvious, like I didn't just use it. I don't like the mess tomatoes make when you have to cut them. So I prefer not to.

I nodded my head. Not wanting to start an argument, whenever he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed he's like this.



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