She pressed two fingers to her lips and sighed into the fridge. Except today, she thought, looking back at the slaughtered dinnerware. The shelves were mostly empty-clean, but empty, Juno noted, the essence of this house and everything in it. The old GE hummed as she opened it, the condiments rattling in the door. Juno eyed all of this with mild curiosity as she arrived at her destination. When she rounded the island, she saw a green wine bottle lying on its side, a U-shaped crack spilling wine in a river that flowed beneath the stove. She couldn’t disturb them, and she definitely couldn’t cut herself. She’d heard the fight, but now she was seeing it in white porcelain shards that lay like teeth across the floor. She wore only thin socks, and as she stepped gingerly from a black tile to a white, it felt like she was playing a human game of chess. She eyed a safe-ish route through the largest shards of glass that led past the island. But before she could eat, she had to make it to the fridge without cutting herself.
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