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Weekly Contest #241
Tears fill my eyes. I pause in dicing the onion and glance out into the hall. On the key hook, a pair of rusted keys sits restlessly, swaying side to side. Putting down the chef’s knife, I run to the front door and peer outside. Mum’s car is parked in the driveway. I must not have heard her come in. I’ve started making dinner more and more these days. Sometimes Mum works until 6 or 7 or sometimes later. Her boss says she has ‘extra business’ to do after hours, but it makes her smile when she comes home to see me cooking. I’ve become used to ...
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