"Jasmine Yale, when others ask you to do something, you do it. When I ask you to do something, why don't I hear a response?"
"I didn't!" Jasmine Yale raised her head to argue.
"Eat breakfast."
After saying that, Sylvan Cheney didn't ask her another question, pushed her aside, and walked out of the kitchen.
His tall figure quickly disappeared from her view.
Jasmine Yale was momentarily bewildered.
Was he angry? Or was he ignoring her?
At her feet, there was white powder; in her hand, there was coffee yet to be ground.
Jasmine turned around and continued to grind the coffee, her eyes carrying a deflated expression, like the ripples on a lake.
Soon, the coffee was ready.
It smelled good, filling the kitchen with the rich and robust aroma of coffee.
As usual, she carried the coffee out.
But, when she reached the dining room, she did not see Sylvan Cheney.
She stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking around uncertainly, searching for him.
