The plates were simple.
The day had not been.
Someone spoke about school.
Someone stayed quiet about work.
A joke landed late, but it landed.
Hands moved between bowls without asking.
Nothing important was solved.
No plans were finalised.
But shoulders dropped.
Phones stayed facedown.
For a short while,
the house remembered itself—
not as a place of routines,
but as a place of return.
Some meals don’t fill the stomach.
They steady the people around the table.
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