Violet

I picked up a strawberry from the fruit tray on the table, the red glossy surface cool against my fingers, and held it out in front of Sebastian’s mouth.

“Here,” I said softly, tilting my head toward him. “Try it, Sebastian.”

He glanced at me, then his eyes shifted past my shoulder, toward the other side of the room. I felt the weight of dozens of stares pressing into our backs, people pretending not to look while very obviously looking, and judging us.

Sebastian swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly on the armrest of his wheelchair before he shook his head. “Violet, I’m not hungry. You don’t have to feed...