The patter outside made Hoa raise his sleepy eyes. Sunlit hair flashed past the window sill. Dog, he thought. Tall.The kitchen door creaked. A brown eyeball peered through the open crack. With that golden hair above it. What kind of dog could it be?Hoa uncrossed his legs and slipped off the bench to reach for the door. “Oh!” The surprise woke him up. It was no dog. It was a little girl, French, according to her blond curls, not like his straight black hair.She giggled like a warbling bird, with her whole self, laughing with her voice and mouth, cheeks and eyes, from head to toes. Then she walked in, barefoot on the sunbeam pouring in the doorway.“What’s this?” asked Mother’s stern voice in Vietnamese. She had come in the kitchen, eyebrows in a knot. The little girl padded all around, lightly tapping everything with her fingertips, chirping along. Hoa shrugged and shook his head.“Marie?” The call came from next door. “Marie!” There was more, in French, which Hoa translated for his mother. “Marie, where are you? Marie, come eat breakfast!”Marie fluttered out the door.“Eat,” said Mother, “or you’ll be late for school.”...Angela, special thanks for today's prompts! This writing is part of the next story I want to draft, so this was helpful... beyond words!
This is so exciting to read! I love her walking in on the sunbeam - gorgeous! The tickle of curiosity raised in the reader is awesome. And in such a gentle scene. Lovely! Even better that you could use it for what you're working on. So excellent.