After a long silence, Vivian Young finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "Let's... let's eat something first."
She rose and walked silently to the kitchen, emerging moments later with a table full of dishes.
There were glossy, braised ribs, congee simmered until thick and creamy, crisp stir-fried greens, steamed lobster, and braised grouper. It was as if, in this calm before the storm, she wanted the family to have one last good, hot meal together.
But despite the feast laid out before them, no one had any appetite. They all sat with their eyes lowered, faces etched with an unshakeable worry, not even wanting to pick up their chopsticks.
Elliot Lawrence finally couldn't hold it in any longer. His Adam's apple bobbed. "Sue, this polar apocalypse... can we really survive it?"
