Mari lumbered, zombie-like into the kitchen. She was dressed, her hair combed, but she still appeared sleep deprived and dour. She looked down at her breakfast, pursed her lips and attacked it.

“Do you like your pancakes? I used that buttermilk recipe you said you liked.” Connor meticulously sliced his pancakes and ate, never dropping a crumb.

“Yes.” Mari shoveled food into her mouth, still refusing to look up.

Connor grimaced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!” Mari slammed her fork down.

“You know, Mom and Dad were just trying to help… It was just a suggestion, not a judgment.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Mari, please…”

“You are WRONG!” Mari glared at Connor for a moment, then stood up and left the kitchen.

Connor looked after Mari and sighed to himself. She should be calm by the time school was out, maybe they could talk then. He shook his head one last time as he locked the door and headed to track practice.