family, food, work
Ted would leave, once more, today. He stood, holding his cordless pyjamas up, looking out the bedroom window. The hills behind his wife 's house folded toward each other like a bunched quilt; humps of her violets grew on the edge of the orchard. She was not in their bed. Huia's hand was on Wehe's shoulder as she squeezed the sleep out of her eyes. "It's five o'clock," she said. " Rain's stopped and the tide's right. You want to go with me?" She did. She pulled herself out of bed on Huia's hand. She looked at her mother and laughed. ''You have pikaru,'' she said.
"Corned Beef for Dinner,"
Inscape: Vol. 7:
1, Article 36.
Available at: https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/inscape/vol7/iss1/36