I have to go back out there. My feet aren’t going to let me. I don’t want her to look at me like that. I want anger or disgust or something. Not this. I force myself back into the common room and she’s gone. The plate sits on the floor, tart half eaten. That’s a start at least. As I stare at it her cat strolls over to the plate and picks at the meats. It seems he likes duck the best out of all things. He licks his chops and looks at me.