Scribe
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Scribe

Pomegranates

A short story

Photo by Arjun Kapoor on Unsplash

Eliana’s mother placed the last of the rinsed plates on the dish rack.

“May I dry them, Mama?”

“Of course. Let me fetch the chair for you to stand on.”

Eliana climbed up and stretched out her arms obediently. Her mother enveloped her in a huge white apron that stretched from throat to toes.

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Tess Wheeler

Tess Wheeler

Reader, teacher, writer, and beach walker. I’m happy at home in the North East of England but plotting more adventures in this second half.