That will be good, Marie.” The two women sat down. Jam and I held hands and blessed the meal. We passed the bowls. Everyone took a good share. Marie...��s eyes widened and she smiled. I could tell she was tasting the flavor and texture of the offering. Obviously, she liked it and was planning for future breakfasts.“Your Grace, what do you call this again?”“In my country, it goes by many different names, western omelet, Denver omelet, and others. I’ve usually heard it called a country omelet. It’s. It was strange as my body began to response to her before my mind did. My heart began to beat quicker. My mouth became dry. ‘With what?’ My voice cracked nervously. ‘I’m lost and can’t find my way home.’ Her tone was sad. I could feel her grief, her wanting to make it home. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask her where she lived. I closed it quickly when I noticed her dress. It was torn and what was could have been blue was now a grayish color. I took a step back. I knew something wasn’t right. More

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