Title: A Little Room
Word Count 225
A Little Room
Father's feet across the floor, a lift, plant, slide. The sound known, as his voice, as Mother's kiss. Kit's same pewter plate, the horn spoon he had used since the breast. He stood at his place at bench. Bent his head for the muttered prayer, and for Father's grunt as he sat.
“Take some turnips, Christofer.” His mother's smile was a darting thing, a sparrow smile, but he caught it. “And this is Dorothy's butter for them. She brings it to me often, with good bread.”
He took the weight of the bowl, warm in his hand. Her hands were thin and red.
“Our Dorothy made a good match.” Mother said. She looked down, smoothing the table cloth. (Much creased, put down for his visit,)
“Think thou on marriage now, Christofer?”
“Not yet Mother. I have not the money for a wife.”
“Wasting your money in taverns--” father began. Kit put his gaze down and waited it out. Father moved from taverns to sin generally, to shoe-making. The trajectory was worn with time. At length Father put down his spoon.
Thank'ee Katherine,” he said. Kit heard the scrape as he stood, to return to the shop.
“His knee pains him,” Mother said.