Suddenly I remembered I had left the gas burner on

I had just finished lunch with my daughter. There was time to run a couple of errands before I had my next appointment. The day was brisk but sunny, the remaining leaves shimmering golden over the bustling sidewalk. Shop windows beckoned, but, eager to complete my tasks, I did not pause to admire the new winter coats with mock fur collars, but hurried to the entrance to the subway instead. I had just passed through the turnstiles when the thought hit me: I hadn’t turned off the artichokes. I had only turned the heat down, not off.
Three hours. That’s how long it had been since I left the house. With luck, if I dropped everthing else, it would take another hour to return. There had been four inches of water in the pot, more than I would normally put to steam artichokes. But three hours? It would have boiled out long ago. In my nostrils I felt smoke. The train pulled into the station and the doors flew open. I jumped inside, but knew that I was already too late.

When the loved one is a Trump supporter

Political disagreements are never easy. But for those who view Trump as a dangerous, treasonous despot bent on destroying democratic institutions, it’s getting harder every day to convince oneself that the right thing to do is to listen politely to his defenders - even when they live under the same roof.
So you disagree. Fight. And now, every evening, you who have been married for thirty years, are arguing about politics. Remaining quiet feels like a betrayal. Speaking up is horrible and painful.
And Thanksgiving is just around the corner.