The Pale Orange Reflection

The table had vanished. All we can see were food. Seafood, oil food, wheat, and everything in between. You see, it was our parents twentieth year wedding anniversary.

My siblings and I were seated like audience to the sweetness of our folks. We were witnesses and evidence to the bond they have over the years.

My little brother was dancing Macarena. I think he was mocking some waiters. They should dance to that song while serving food. That would be swell.

Originally published in


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