Chapter 9The soup smelled delicious, as it did every year. This was the only time that Alexi and their dad made it. Sometimes they’d made chicken noodle soup or they’d order pierogis at a restaurant, but somehow the combination of the scents was far more powerful than they were individually. It carried such strong memories, memories that Alexi told themself not to bury this year. This year, come hell or high water, they were breaking the silence.
It was harder than they thought, and they already knew it wasn’t going to be easy. The weights in their chest pulled down on their tongue. They barely even spoke while they helped their dad cook, instead gesturing to ingredients or tools they needed and grunting quietly in thanks when their dad handed it to them. It wasn’t as though their dad was
