Do you want seconds?" Betsy Miller asked, almost startling me out of my thoughts. It had

been an unusually quiet dinner with her millers, and so I'd retreated into my head for a

moment, but Betsy had chugged me from my thoughts as I finished the last of my peas.

Certainly, that sounds fantastic. I smiled at her as she lifted my plate and headed towards

the kitchen.

Hank, the patriarch of the family, sat at the head of the table, biting into his second

helping of pork with a frown on his face. Normally, Hank would be the heart of conversation

as we discuss sports or current affairs, or his own family matters. But tonight, he sat

quietly, saving his food and leaving the dinner meeting feeling a little tense. To his

left sat Timmy, Hank and Betsy's only son, a boy of about ten or eleven. He meekly

pushed his peas around his plate in an effort to make them magically disappear, but years

of experience had taught me that it never works like that.

The walls of the room were covered with family pictures. There was Timmy in a baseball uniform,

Hank and Betsy dressed finally on their wedding day, a picture of the family out in a

nice restaurant, or a picture of Timmy as a baby. The family's most precious moments

stood proudly on display, and I knew Hank was very happy with his family. It was the

complete opposite of my house that sat with barren white walls, for I had no real family

left, no wife, and especially no kids. Not that it bothered me, but it did become a tad

lonely at times, so I was thankful to have met Hank when I moved in next door, and even

more thankful that they would occasionally have me over for dinner. I figured I would

brooch the lingering question in my mind.

Hank, are you feeling okay today? You've been a little quiet, I asked.

...