DishesA Story by HosimoneJust a short scene.~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~ “Liz!” yells a voice from downstairs. Sighing, I peel my covers away and get up. Keeping my eyes closed, I lift myself onto the edge of my bed and stay there a moment longer, holding onto the last fading bits of my daydream. When they finally dissolve into my imagination, I open my eyelids and walk down the stairs to my mom. “Yes?” I call about half way down. Pausing a moment, I wait for a reply. When none came, I continued and walked into the kitchen. As usual, my mom was cooking in her favorite apron. I always tell her to it’s time for a new one; the green cloth is fraying around the seams and the pockets are practically non-existent. “Yes?” I ask again. “Would you mind doing the dishes?” she asked, looking over at the overflowing sink. “Sure,” I said unenthusiastically, and walk over to the sink. In the metal basin, pots and pans were covering all the utensils that hid from sight, mocking me silently. I glare back at them. After I cleared the dishes out, I wait for the water to heat up; lyrics to random songs flowing into my head. Singing along to them quietly, I squeeze the dish soap into the running water, watching a white cloud form. Playing with the growing mass of bubbles, I grab the sponge and start washing. ~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~ © 2017 HosimoneAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on June 12, 2017 Last Updated on June 17, 2017 Author |