After dinner at our place, my mother-in-law always rushes straight to the sink to wash the dishes. But when I refused to react to her little performance, she started an argument.
She washes the dishes as if the fate of humanity depends on it. Her back is straight, shoulders squared, elbows moving with the force and rhythm of factory pistons. The sponge scrapes across the plate with a sound that makes it seem as though she is not cleaning away leftover sauce, but scrubbing off proof […]
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