love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
She watches as he sprinkles some other ingredients into the bowl, catching the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla as he goes. The hand on the spoon slows when he hesitates, and her lashes lift up to look him in the face as he helps, as he tells her why. She died, liefde.
Kamaria's hand freezes and her eyes widen. She's young and she doesn't fully understand what it means for someone to die, but she can pick up on the graveness of his words. His next string of words confuse her a bit, wondering what that means. Where she is. "Where is she?" Kamaria asks, trying to puzzle this out, "Is she up in the stars? With my mommy?"
Kamaria's hand freezes and her eyes widen. She's young and she doesn't fully understand what it means for someone to die, but she can pick up on the graveness of his words. His next string of words confuse her a bit, wondering what that means. Where she is. "Where is she?" Kamaria asks, trying to puzzle this out, "Is she up in the stars? With my mommy?"
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
