EDitorial ± 30-May-2016

Every Day We Have Soup

(75 word short story published on Paragraph Planet on Sunday 29-May-2016)

Papa left us with nothing except a tablecloth of scrubland. Mama tilled and toiled until it fed us.

Winter, she makes green spinach, served hot.

"Natalia," she says, "tell Yuri his soup is getting cold."

Summer, she makes red borscht, served cold.

"Natalia, tell Yuri his soup is getting warm."

Today, she made white bean broth, served at room temperature.

"Natalia," said Mama, "enough shouting. Let's you and me eat in peace."