Wordle by Wordle: Day 42
Sunday, Feb 11, 2024
Wordle #967 - NEVER
Chapter 6.
Note to self: Never bring tuna noodle casserole on public transportation.
I’d baked up a huge dish to give to Bree, and I swear I had tightly covered it. Plastic wrap and everything. But, well, from the side-eye I got on BART, you would’ve thought I had gutted an albacore right there at my seat.
I ring Bree’s doorbell and reshoulder the heavy tote bag containing the casserole. I give it a covert sniff. Smells fine to me.
A muffled “Just a second!” comes from inside, but a good half-minute passes before Bree flings open the door, cradling Lola in her arm.
“Hi, Cece. Come on in.” Bree tries to wave me in and juggle a squirming Lola at the same time. She flashes what looks like an actual smile, her hair neatly coifed and makeup more flawless than Facetune.
“You look a lot better!” I can’t stop myself from saying, surprised, and yeah, maybe a tad judgy. Stop it, Cecilia, grief looks different for everyone, I admonish myself as I step inside. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m okay, at the moment. The Xanax helps a little,” Bree says. Then, to Lola, “And so do you! Yes, you do.” She plants a few kisses in the curly white fur atop Lola’s head. Lola endures.
“That’s good. Um, where should I—?” I heave the tote bag off my shoulder and open its handles, revealing a hodgepodge of Tupperware and tinfoil-wrapped dishes worthy of any church potluck.
“Oh, let’s go in the kitchen.” Bree leads the way.
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