Chapter 10 - The Fries Belong to UsA year after the day my mother moved the plate of fries away from my son, we walked into the same diner downtown for our traditional Friday afternoon lunch.

Brenda spotted us the moment the door swung open, waving enthusiastically from behind the counter.
“Table four for the VIPs!” she called out.
Dany, now five years old and proudly wearing his favorite red sneakers, scrambled up onto the vinyl booth seat without any help.
“The usual?” Brenda asked, leaning over our table with her notepad ready.
“Two baskets of fries, please, Brenda,” Dany announced seriously, staring up at her with big brown eyes. “Extra ketchup. And they’re all mine this time!”
Brenda laughed, tossing her pencil into her apron pocket. “You got it, big guy. Coming right up.”
I sat back against the red vinyl cushion, watching my son chatter happily about his upcoming kindergarten field trip. The afternoon sunlight poured through the diner window, catching the golden neon sign outside.
My past was behind me. My family’s house of cards had crumbled into dust, and out of its ruins, I had built a life of absolute truth, unconditional love, and unbreakable peace.
Brenda returned a minute later, setting two massive, steaming baskets of french fries in front of my son.
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Dany grabbed a fry, dipped it proudly, and took a bite with a triumphant grin.
They belonged to him. Every single one of them. And no one would ever take them away again.