355 of 365
He stood at the sink, quiet and detached from the flow of relatives moving through his kitchen. They loaded their plates with hors d'oeuvres a plenty, pilfering the table before disappearing into the living room. Their voices filled the house with superficial chatter, which his own apathetic ears muffled and dismissed. Everyone was talking to someone, consulting with someone, comforting someone, but no one was comforting him.