Los Angeles, CA Charley was seated at the kitchen table eating a plate of beef tortellini in spaghetti sauce. Mother was picking at the food wistfully but Charley ignored her, plowing into the meal with hungry abandon. He had been hungry for tortellini for almost three days now, and was glad that he had made it. Mother usually liked it, too but after starting her dinner enthusiastically she had slowed down to merely picking at her plate, swirling the beef enclosed pastas around in the sauce like a child playing with its food. Charley tried to ignore her for awhile, but her demeanor got to him shortly. He put down his fork and looked at her. “Why aren't you eating, mother?" She shook her head. “I don't know. I thought I was hungry. Guess I really wasn't.” She was dressed in her usual garb of flannel P.J.'s with a red and black flannel robe covering her corpulent body, her white hair gathered up in a bun behind her head, wispy strands trailing behind her. Her features were wrinkled and cracked, her hands withered like the limbs of an old tree.
