The evening stretched on, a tension hanging in the air that neither of us acknowledged.
Emma sat curled up on the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV screen but not really watching.
I busied myself with dinner, the clattering of pots and pans filling the silence.
Every now and then, I would glance over at her, hoping she would look up and say something.
Anything.
But she remained in her own world, her silence a barrier I couldn’t penetrate.
As we sat down to eat, I tried to breach the gap.
“Anything exciting happen at school today?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
She shrugged, poking at her food.
“Not really,” she muttered.
