The unfinished booties lie on the couch, it’s hues of orange and purple a bright contrast to the drab beige. Knitting needles suspend the stitches, attached to the balls of yarn in an adjacent basket. It’s hard to imagine Kathy was here yesterday, clickety-clacking her way through a gift for their unborn child. Jeremy sits on the couch, feeling the yarn between his thumb and index finger. They weren’t going to enforce gender stereotypes with pinks and blues. The deafening silence is finally broken by Jeremy’s sobs.
© Sanch V @ Sanch Writes (22 September 2022)
***Written in response to the prompt for Fiction Monday by Vinitha
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