Iris
I scrub the serving dish harder than I should, hardly even noticing as the scrubber leaves scratch marks in the ceramic.
The dinner was a disaster. Not just the burnt roast—although that certainly didn’t help—but the whole evening. Leonard and Wendy might as well have worn signs around their necks that read “Your Human Mate is Inadequate.”
Every glance, every comment about my “small” apartment, every remark about Miles’ eating habits... it all added up to the same conclusion: I’m not good enough. Not for them, and not for the public.
The front door opens and closes softly. Arthur is back.
“Need some help?” he asks, appearing in the kitchen doorway.
I shake my head without looking up from the sink. “I’m almost done.”
Arthur grabs a dish towel anyway and pi
