She's already had dinner, and only eats like a bird anyway. It's odd for her to be hungry again, but I'm not going to deny anyone a snack. "How about an english muffin?" I ask.
She looks at her hands thoughtfully. "I guess that'll be OK."
I fire up the toaster and crack out the butter, and happily brought her the result. "Can you put some of the gravy on it?"
It's already late, and this is so completely random it leaves me momentarily with nothing to say. I finally muster up, "Uhhhh........... gravy?"
She waves towards the sewing machine, "Yeah, right th- where'd it go?" Confusion, then irritation, "OHHHH! I reckon Monkey must've put it up." Monkey is her sister. She's also passed away years ago, but apparently is in town tonight with Grandpa.
"That's alright, I guess this'll be good enough." She takes the muffin, calmly reaches over and tugs the curtains. "Here, eat this, I know you're hungry," and drops the muffin between the bed and the wall.
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