Then Bake Me a Cake
I’ve been thinking a lot about a story my mother used to tell me. She told it to me often enough that she must have thought it was important—that it might be of value to me in the future. Although it didn’t involve people she knew personally, she seemed to believe it was a true story.
This is how it goes:
A woman sat nervously across from her husband as he was drinking his morning coffee. She gathered her courage and quickly said, “I don’t love you anymore.”
She watched him intently as she waited...
