Photo Source: Raw Pixel Smooth plastic trembled in Ana’s calloused hand, making the hot steel of non-stick clatter gently atop a scarlet coil. She squeezed, concentrating every backhanded compliment, every snide remark into crushing the handle, and the tremble turned into a quake. Two yellow orbs rolled and rolled and rolled in a thick pool of white. Like the very eyes that reminded her of how stupid she was. Ana’s knuckles strained pale around the handle. She could easily picture him: arms...