From The Price of Extension
by Esi Noire
The kitchen smelled like Saturday. Mrs. M was dozing. The boy returned with better shoes.
He mowed the lawn.
Then he sat on the porch with soup and cream of wheat bread, cinnamon still warm in the crust.
“Is this how it used to taste?” he asked.
Mrs. M answered from her chair without looking up.
“Like it never left the stove.”
Later, Nomi received another AIM update—on heatwave safety.
She installed it quietly and made a note:
Set towels on the porch rail tomorrow.
Keep the porch cool.
Keep them safe.
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