Before Clara could utter another word, the phone was abruptly hung up. The busy tone rang, as if mocking her unrequited love. Clara slowly got up and walked to the mirror—the woman in the mirror had a puffy face, dark circles under her eyes, and loose loungewear clung to her body like a thick layer of cotton. She raised her hand and pinched her arm; it was all soft fat, and the firm muscle lines she used to have when she was a dancer were nowhere to be found.
"Let's just consider this one last meal for them before I leave." Clara sighed at her reflection in the mirror, her fingertips tracing the water stains on the surface, as if caressing the shattered past.
As evening fell, the front door opened. Liam led Lila in, Vanessa linked arms with him, and the three of them walked in, chatting and laughing. Vanessa held a drawing in her hand, a "family portrait" drawn by Lila—it included her father, Vanessa, and herself in a princess dress, but Clara was nowhere to be seen. Liam took the drawing, smiled, and ruffled Lila's hair: "Our Lila drew so well, even better than her kindergarten teacher."