“What does it feel like to be completely useless?”…

I could hear the soft clink of a spoon against a plate somewhere down the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the dull roar of my own heartbeat in my ears. I carefully placed my water glass back on the table, my hand steady, a small island of calm in a sudden storm. I looked at Iris, truly looked at her, perhaps for the first time that day.

She wore a pair of expensive sunglasses perched on her head like a tiara and a linen blouse I recognized from a high-end boutique in town. I had paid for it, of course, a silent gift she’d accepted as her due. Her face was a mask of practiced charm, her confidence a fortress.

I straightened my spine, a small internal shift that no one else would have noticed, but to me it felt like a fault line finally moving into place. And when I spoke, my voice was quiet, almost a whisper in the sudden hush. “How does it feel?” I repeated her question, letting it settle between us.