The Oatmeal

It was agreed that their daughters would eat first and then be off to school. Two of them were in high school so that would be easy.
But the youngest was just ten and she seemed to sense things before they happened. Or maybe she was just a really good listener. Or maybe she pressed her ear against the door and eavesdropped on her parents’s conversations.

This particular daughter began crying into her oatmeal at breakfast. The two older sisters looked at their parents and said “This is all your fault, isn’t it?”
For it seemed the other two daughters were aware of their parents marriage troubles. The parents came clean and said yes, and they were also getting a divorce.

The younger daughter cried louder; she was inconsolable. The two older daughters picked up their books, oatmeal untouched, and decided against taking the bus to school. They would walk instead, they announced. Which was fine by the parents who didn’t had enough problems without starting an argument about their daughters modes of transportation. Which if they were walking, would be no mode, technically.

 

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