The Persian rugs... those rugs in our living room have thrums. Each fringe has to lay straight. No one is allowed to step on them. My mother keeps a close eye on where people put their feet. We are not allowed to wear shoes inside but those people who come in the evening do. I can hear it if they walk upstairs and go in and outside the room next to mine. The room where my dad hides too.
My mother... She crawled over the floor and that's what the first thing I saw when I came home. I don't like to see her fat bottom. She doesn't care and I don't tell her she looks very fat this way. I waited in the doorway till she said something. She counted each fringe after she put it straight. She kept counting and if she forgot the number she started again. I thought about Francoise. She once asked me what my mother did as she pulled at the curtains. I felt so ashamed but she explained because it was a serious question to her. Francoise said nothing but also never returned again. I know we have never been good friends but she invited me to her grandparent's home in Belgium. We could be friends or?
The counting went on and on and I felt dizzy. She made me help her and start at the other side of the rug while she put her head underneath the television's cabinet.
Monday
April 26, 2021
The prompt for the freewrite is written in bold and provided by
. If you like to join the freewriters do so. It takes 5 minutes of your time.
