FOR TWO • by Paige Zubel

I wanted to ask her why she didn’t love me anymore, but I just asked instead why we were out of soup.

I ate it, she said. I was hungry.

I knew this was fair. But I was hungry, too. And now there was no more soup.

There are carrots, she offered, and some celery.

I ate them all. The pears, too. And all of the protein bars. My stomach kept growling for more, insatiable and greedy. I tried to suppress it with the palms of my hands and quiet its wanting.

She didn’t look up at me. I knew she could feel the rumble resonate in her feet, tremble her foundation, but she seemed undisturbed.

There wasn’t anything left to eat.

I went to bed thinking to myself next time I’d make soup for two.


Paige Zubel, 18, is a senior at Houston’s High School for the Performing and Visual Arts studying theatre.


This story is sponsored by
StoryADay — StoryADay May is an extreme writing challenge for short story writers. Write every day, not “some day”.


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Every Day Fiction