He poked his head through the doorway, following the scent of roasted meat. An assortment of dishes were placed on a small, round, wooden table at the back of the kitchen. Chris noted expert craftsmanship and the intricate designs - likely handcrafted in Saxophone, then shipped here. There clearly weren't enough chairs for them all; Olivia's father had placed four chairs, an overturned bucket, and a short metal barrel around the table.
"Children! Come eat!" Olivia's father called gruffly, seating himself at the largest chair. Olivia followed suit, balancing a tray with six bowls of rice with one arm.
Like, well, children, the other Winds scurried back into the store kitchen, seating themselves around the freshly cooked meal. The space was absolutely cramped. Chris could barely reach for a pair of chopsticks without elbowing Olivia or Bella.
"Eat now. Later you tell me why the five of you are running around the Section."
-----
"Kind of how it should have been. My wife and I, and all our little rascals." He sighed, patting Olivia on the back. She stares into her bowl, for once, silent.
"I guess that didn't get to happen when the military moved in?" Rosie asked hesitantly. "The Brass have really done a number on our section in the last few years, and we get that, which is why --"
"No, Rosie," Olivia shook her head, "Not exactly. My mother passed away when I was born. I never even got to meet her."
A silence settles around the table. Chris glanced at the family portraits in the hallway -- one with the entire family without Olivia, and one with just her and her siblings as kids.
View User's Journal
Nothing Haunted
Ghostly's rambles and/or daily journal entries. Now featuring poorly written universe details, story-lines, and character designs.
 |
