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554953794

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2019-10-01 Joined Global

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The smell alone brought back memories for the old man—a whiff of thanksgiving dinner when he was young. He remembered his family coming together, crowded into the kitchen, his mother fussing about and his father and brothers chatting with each other, everyone watching her as she prepared the meal. He remembered that first bite, so full of flavor; how good everything tasted, how much you wanted to savor every morsel, the way one could only eat so much before needing to stop. And then the best part—the leftovers, the sandwiches made from turkey or ham, or even the mashed potatoes, the gravy poured over ice cream like thick chocolate syrup, the sweet potato pie smeared with whipped cream. The memory of those meals lasted long after they were gone. That was what Thanksgiving meant—the food. But for the time of then, he hadn't seen or heard anyone at all over the past weeks while staying inside this big house. Not even neighbors who lived nearby came to check up on things once every few days.

Two Dragons

Two Dragons

Fantasy · luosifen99

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