Line du Jour

She watches me clean the plate up with a piece of bread.
“Shovelin’ your food into you like that,” she says. “It can’t do you a bit o’ good. An’ don’t you want a cup o’ tea?”
I tell her I do, and a slice of bread and marmalade, and she sets about the loaf. She always grabs a loaf like its a chicken whose neck she’s wringing.