On the dinner table, Kierra was stabbing her fork into the poor tomato that was slipping into her plate, away from her reach.
"Kierra, "Her mother said in a stern tone. "What are you doing?"
Kierra looked up at her mother and blinked her eyes innocently as if she had not done anything suspicious at all. "What?"
"What?" Her mother said. "You have been murdering the poor tomato for a long time. If you don't like the food, you can say it."
"It's not that, "Kierra said. "I just want to eat something Italian."
