Vince

“I hated it when tea and cakes were served to the council workers, because it meant dozens of fat, balding, middle-aged men were hanging around, nursing cups of tea and pieces of cake, and taking up lots of space, physical and emotional, the way fat, balding, middle-aged men did. Their”
― Sally Hepworth, The Good Sister

“And just like that, my spirits lift. “That means you know where the food is.” “Oh!” Grace says. “You missed dinner.” “That sucks,” Suzy says. “It was lamb merguez—” “With a warm carrot salad—” “And an orange-basil granita—” “There might be some leftovers?” I scratch the back of my neck and look away. “That sounds lovely, but I was sort of hoping I could just make myself a peanut butter sandwich.” Grace slides down off the counter. “Don’t be silly, I’ll make you some pasta—what do you want? Puttanesca? Arrabbiata?” I feel a frown coming on; I fight it back. “A sandwich is fine, really.” She adjusts her glasses and plants her hands on her hips. “My dad would seriously disown me if he knew I fed someone a peanut butter sandwich for dinner.” “But I don’t want pasta. I want a peanut butter sandwich”
― Elizabeth Little, Pretty as a Picture