I walked out of the bathroom, then checked that the bedroom was all tidied before going to find Ming-May.
"Good morning, Ming-May," I greeted quietly as soon as I saw her.
"Good morning, Miss Amelia." Ming-May returned the greeting with a bright smile.
Ming-May looked happy to be here, and I realized we were in different positions. Ming-May chose to work here, whereas I was forced to accept this position.
I pulled out a chair nearest to me and sat down, watching Ming-May cook. I remembered when Mama was still alive. I was about six or seven years old back then. I would sit at the kitchen table watching her cook while Jenny played with her toys on the floor. Those were happy times.
Those were times before the accident happened. I missed those times.
Moments later, Ming-May delivered my breakfast — French toast with maple syrup.
I loved French toast, but I never had the opportunity to eat out much.
