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I watched as she smiled around her first bite, her pleasure and accomplishment palpable in the small kitchen.
“Is good right?” she asked around a mouthful.
“Yes, it’s fried dough with meat. It usually tastes pretty good,” I joked, and she smiled around another bite.
There was an odd sensation in my chest, like it was suffused with light, and I paused midbite. Twyla didn’t notice my staring. She was humming to herself as she lifted another morsel to her lips. She picked up the corn and bit into it...and I tasted its sweetness on the back of my tongue.
“I didn’t expect it to be quite so juicy...” she murmured, chasing an errant streak of oil that ran down her pinky.
“Yes,” I choked out as I realized what that peculiar feeling in my chest was. I was proud—well, no, she was proud and somehow, I was picking up that feeling from her like a solar panel drawing energy. I felt warmth spread across my chest and creep up my collarbone and fought the urge to share her smile.
I could feel a little ball of energy in the distance and I reached out a little, extending what I could only call an emotional arm. The tingling built in the tips of my fingers before running down my arms and diffusing into my body. A golden glow. I realized she was happy. Sitting in my simple kitchen, making easy recipes and cooking side by side with me made her happy.
I hid a smile behind an ear of roasted corn.
