Today's OneWord: Bland

"How's the soup?"

"Bland." Sara made a face. "And slightly burnt, too. Seriously, who made this?"

I sighed. "My mother's always wanted to be a better cook than my dad was," I explained, hiding my lips behind the lip of a beer tankard. The ale was the only thing adding flavor to this hapless meal. "After he died, she kept trying new recipes. All of them failures. I admire her for making the attempt, but..."

"It's something, at least. Food is something," said Sara, inhaling sharply as she reached for her glass of wine.

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