The porridge is too thin again.
I stir it anyway, even though I already know it won’t change. The spoon scrapes the bottom of the pot with a soft, tired sound. Outside, the wind presses against the walls of our house like it’s trying to remember how to get in.
I sighed heavily. This porridge is thinner than my blanket.
“Yue-Hana,” my mother says gently from the main room as she wearily saggs onto her futon. “You’re thinking too loudly again.”
I blink and look down at the pot. “I didn’t know thoughts made noise.”
“They do when you worry with them.” She added with a slight lilt.
That makes me exhale something almost like a laugh. I don’t know if it counts.
My father coughs near the window. He’s sitting in his usual chair, wrapped in an old blanket that used to be blue. Now it’s just… weathered.
He's been weaker than usual bit won't admit. Good thing I asked Mei to come over this evening.
“It’s early for this wind,” he says, complaining. “North storms shouldn’t be here yet.”
I set the spoon aside and walk towards the shutters. The wood is cold under my fingers when I push them slightly open. Winter breeze caresses my face gently and I'm met with biting cold.
The sky is gray.
No snowing and storm. Just heavy, like it hasn’t decided what it wants to become.
“It feels like winter forgot something,” I say quietly.
My mother hums behind me, shifting in her futon. “It often does, sweetie.”
I set the table and we ate in silence after that.
Three bowls.
One table.
A normal morning pretending to be normal.
But I keep noticing small things. The way my father’s hand shakes when he lifts his spoon. The way my mother keeps looking at me when she thinks I’m not watching.
Like they’re memorizing me without meaning to.
It makes my chest feel strange for some unknown reason.
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and then Add to home screen.