Katie leaned over the steaming crockpot and stirred the thick chicken stew. She closed her eyes. The blended aromas of garlic and thyme floated into the air. Ah, heaven. Her mouth watered. Jazz music played softly in her butter yellow kitchen. Katie straightened, cocked her head, and turned.
Billy Halliday crooned on. Before the wooden spoon struck the counter with a thwack, Katie tore down the hallway.
“Hi, Mom. You’re out of bed—great. How’s the fever?” She leaned forward. “Forehead feels cool. Want some tea?”
The woman in the chair sat straight and stiff as a statue. Only her eyes moved, scrutinizing the busy, talking blonde’s face. Even as her heart threatened to choke her, Katie grew contemplative. In an instant, her mother’s watery eyes dripped weaving rivers down her face.
“What is it darling?” Katie whispered.
~ * ~
The word limit for Contemplative is 150 words. I used 142 words. Check out http://mommasmoneymatters.com/flash-fiction/ for rules and contributions.