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Hungry
‘Travis?’ I call as I enter our home. I don’t hear the familiar, ‘Daddy’s home!’ from our son. ‘Honey?’ It’s quiet. Curious. The car was in the driveway and I smell dinner. Walking in, I pass the entry to our seldom used dining room. ‘Hello.’ I start at your voice, soft but stronger and lower than normal. I take a deep breath at the sultry scene you have created. In the soft light of two candles, I see the table spread with succulent aromatic food, steaming shrimp and oysters, fresh...