Fiction Food

    In the kitchen, a square of gingerbread wrapped in a cloth sat waiting on the table.     "You can't eat all of it," his mother scolded from the past, even as he had grabbed for it with the small greedy hands of a child. "Save some for after supper."     But then she would turn from cooking and find his face sticky with crumbs and the gingerbread completely gone, and she'd laugh helplessly.     The echo of laughter faded until the kitchen was silent and cold. He touched the edges of the cloth.     Nothing was ever simple.

–TimeKeeper by Tara Sim