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 Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2015 4:55 pm
 "Papa, I'm home," called Kasmai as he entered their small home. He knew his father wouldn't answer, but he'd hear him shuffling around soon enough. He carried a basket in the crook of one elbow and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. He tried to bring home surprises like this from the City once in a while. The flowers would brighten up their home, at least a little bit. These particular blooms were bright pink and very fragrant, which is why he'd picked them. The basket was covered in a cloth, and held their groceries for the next few days. Bread, apples, a dozen eggs, and a wheel of cheese. He put the basket down on the kitchen counter and pulled a vase down from the cupboard. He filled it with water from the dipper and then carefully settled the flowers into it.
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Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2015 5:04 pm
 Masozi rolled out of bed when he heard Kasmai come in. He didn't want the boy to think he'd been sleeping all day. Oh, but it was cold outside of the blankets. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders like a cape and shuffled into the dining room. The boy was just putting a vase of pink roses on the table. Their sweet fragrance filled the air, but to Masozi it was just another smell.
"How was work?" he asked, ruffling his hand through his curly hair.
He didn't really listen to Kasmai's answer. It was probably good. It was always good. And even if it weren't, he wouldn't have said anything. The poor boy was desperate to keep everything positive, bless his heart. Too bad it never made a difference. Masozi nodded and sat at the table. He watched Kasmai flit back into the kitchen to put the groceries away. Soon he'd make dinner, and it would be lovingly prepared and delicious, but to Masozi it would taste like sawdust, just like everything else.
It pained him to watch his son, sometimes. His shock of white hair reminded Masozi so much of Miniel that it sent pangs through his heart. Other times, he welcomed the heartache, since it was one of the only feelings he recognized anymore. He worried, too, that Kasmai's constant devotion to him would ultimately lead him to the same fate. This thought he couldn't bear, but the guilt overwhelmed him so that he couldn't even mention it. Kasmai was a fully grown adult now. He had no wife or husband, no children, not even very many friends. His entire life was devoted to keeping them together and alive. It was no kind of existence for a young man, Masozi knew, but he felt so powerless to do anything about it.
He heard the door open and frowned, glancing back to Kasmai in the kitchen. Who could that be? They never received visitors...
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